“But I won’t need to do that, because I know what I’m doing. I’m not trying to be a hero or anything. I’ll be perfectly safe. If something did go wrong, if something happened to you, I’d last a grand total of ten seconds out here by myself. But if something happened to me, you’d be just fine.”
He’s gazing at me like I’ve just offered to stab him in the gut. I can almost see him fighting with himself. But I’m right, and if nothing else he’ll have to see my conviction. I can see his fevered face in my mind’s eye, and my throat constricts just remembering how close I was to losing him. I can’t let that happen again.
“It’s a simple risk-reward analysis,” I murmur. “You taught me that.”
Tarver lifts one hand to touch my face, tracing the curve of my cheek. “Lilac, if something happened to you,” he murmurs, “I would be anything but fine.”
I reach up to take his hand, curling my fingers through his.
“Lilac, are you sure?”
I squeeze his hand, looking up at him, letting him see the confidence, the easy knowledge. I can do this. I will him to see it, with every fiber of my being. I can’t let him light the fuse. I can’t watch him put himself in danger again.
“Positive.”
His gaze searches mine for a few moments as I hold my breath. Then he ducks his head to kiss my forehead, and turns to lead the way back to the cave.
There aren’t many things my old life prepared me for. Not many skills developed in the world of society, of balls and dresses and intrigue, apply out here in the wild, with this man I would’ve never known but for this strange twist of fate.
But at least I’m still a good liar.
“You were found not far from the structure. Can you clarify what happened to it?”
“I was trying to get inside. Whoever left it last was inconsiderate enough to lock the doors, so we had to get creative.”
“And was Miss LaRoux involved in this act of vandalism?”
“Vandalism? We were trying to survive.”
“Shall I repeat the question?”
“Of course she wasn’t.”
“And yet you say you were together the entire time.”
“Miss LaRoux isn’t the kind of girl to get her hands dirty. She waited in the woods, out of harm’s way.”
THIRTY-ONE
TARVER
“I WONDER IF THE KITCHEN’S STILL WORKING. Just think, real food could be on the other side of that door.” She wants to distract me that night, keep us from revisiting the conversation about the fuse. I’ve considered telling her that if she wants to distract me, all she has to do is take her shirt off.
“I hope so.” My head hurts with misgivings. I know it’s smarter to let her light it. She’s done it before. If she’s hurt, I can help her better. She’s less likely to be hurt.
And still.
“A bed too, no more sleeping on the ground.”
I squeeze her. “You do keep ending up back at the bed. You have a preoccupation, Miss LaRoux.”
“Any objections?” She’s arch, smug, running a hand up my arm. If I were wearing a shirt, she’d be tugging on my sleeve, summoning me for a kiss as though she can’t bear to be apart any longer. She’s noticed she can make me forget my words halfway through a sentence.
“Objections? Hell, no.” I’m so tempted to let her have her way, to just give in to her attempts to distract me. She can make my mind shut down faster than anyone I’ve ever met. But I’m still not sure. “Maybe we just leave the building,” I suggest quietly. “Let it stay as it is. Do we really need to get inside this badly?”
Her hand stops, and she pulls back far enough to look at me. “Are you serious?”
“I’m not an idiot, Lilac.” I trace her cheekbone with my fingertips, watching the color spring to her fair skin at my touch. “I know how dangerous this is.”
“It’s our only chance at being rescued. There has to be communications equipment inside, something we can use to send a distress signal.”
Maybe being rescued isn’t my top priority anymore. The words are there, just not the courage to say them. Instead, I pull her closer, tightening my arm around her waist. “I hope so. We don’t even know why this place was abandoned. Something to do with the whispers, I suppose, but what exactly?”
“Secrets upon secrets,” Lilac murmurs. Before I can ask what she means, she draws in one of those slow, careful breaths that mean she’s organizing her thoughts before she speaks. “You said there were rumors about the military experimenting with mind control and telepathy. Maybe corporations are too. What if that’s what this is?”
It’s a little disconcerting that Lilac thinks best in bed. My brain pretty much flatlines under the same circumstances. “You think they discovered these beings, and then hid this place from the rest of the galaxy so they could study them.”
“I don’t know what’s on this planet, Tarver, but whatever—whoever—it is, they can do things. See into our hearts, change our dreams, make us think things. They can create objects out of thin air. Who knows what else they can do? I know that any corporation, or the military for that matter, would stop at nothing for power like that.”
I’m trying to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach, but I know she’s right. There aren’t many corporations with the resources to terraform planets that are known for their compassion and moral fiber.
“Whatever’s going on,” Lilac continues, “the whispers led us here. The answers are inside that building. We’ll find out tomorrow.”
I find a grin. “Tomorrow,” I echo, giving her a squeeze.
She curls against me, tucking herself perfectly along my side. “What will we do, if we’re rescued? After we’ve finished eating and drinking and smiling for the cameras?”
“You’ll be smiling for the cameras,” I correct her, laughing.
“You’ll have your fair share,” she tells me. “You’re the one who saved the life of Roderick LaRoux’s only daughter. It’ll be hard to slip away.”
“My commanding officer will sort it out. I’ll get a week to go home and show my parents I’m whole, then a posting somewhere quiet for a while. Very quiet, if we’ve seen things we’re not supposed to.” Her skin’s so impossibly soft. My hands feel rough against it as I run my palm down her side.
She’s quiet for a little, holding still against me, not leaning into my hand as she usually does. I wait, and let her turn it over in her mind. Eventually she speaks again. “You’ll just—disappear?” The question’s very soft. “What about you and me? What happens to us, if you just vanish?”
I have no flippant answer for her, no deflection this time. I don’t know what happens to us. It’s the question I’ve been trying to avoid every second of every day since we saw the building on the horizon, and discovered the possibility of rescue after all.
“I’m not fourteen anymore.” She lifts herself up on one elbow, gazing at me. “My father is powerful, changing the galaxy to suit him, but he’s not going to change this. He’s strong, but I’d fight him.” Her blue eyes are grave, determined—calm. “I’d fight for you.”
She’s stolen my breath. My hand tightens at her waist until she makes a soft sound of protest, and it takes me a moment to realize I’m hurting her. I want to kiss her until she’s as lost as I am. My heart fills my chest.
But I’ve seen what happens when people go back to the real world. I’ve seen what happens when they’re reunited with their friends, their families. When the everyday rhythms reassert themselves, little currents pulling and tugging them back into the stream of life. Right now this is what she wants, but when she’s back in a life with no room for someone like me? If I let her make these promises and then have to watch her return to her old life, leaving me and all we’ve gone through behind…I’m not sure I can survive that.
With an effort I force myself to start breathing again.
“Lilac.” My voice sounds weak even to me. “Neither of us should make promises like that.”
She swallows. “Are you saying that because you aren’t sure, or because you think I’m not?”
“I’m saying I don’t think it’s as simple as either of us would like it to be.”
“It’s the simplest thing in the world,” she whispers, leaning down to brush her lips against mine. “But I don’t mind waiting until you’re sure. You’ll come around.”
I want to tell her I’ve already come around, that I was there before she was—that I’d face down an army of paparazzi and her father to boot if she asked me.
But she doesn’t know how it can all change when you get back to civilization. And I won’t hold her to promises she can’t keep.
She takes her time over preparations in the morning. At least this much was true—she does seem to know what she’s doing when it comes to blowing things up. No wonder they kept this side of her under wraps—this is hardly an acceptable hobby for the well-bred.
She has me stack the fuel tanks six different ways, she paces out distances, tries different fuses. She dumps out some of the fuel—to leave room in the tanks for vapors, she says. I spend my time clearing anything that might cause damage if it flies through the air, until I’m combing the area for twigs and pebbles and even I have to admit none of them could so much as bruise her. After that I sit at the foot of a tree and watch her.
She’s incredible. She’s so composed, so determined, twitching the fuse with two fingers to change the angle a little. There are moments like this when I can actually imagine her at my parents’ cottage. I can see her hauling wood with the rest of us, chopping vegetables, going for long walks and calling it entertainment. I think my parents would like her.
I can see her happy there. I just wish I knew whether I’m only seeing what I want so badly to see.
Crouched by the end of the fuse, she looks over her shoulder and smiles at me, and I smile back, helpless.
Then I realize that she’s bending her head to strike a match, and something clicks together in my head. She can’t. She mustn’t. My daydreams scatter and I scramble to my feet, too slow, helpless—I don’t know how I know, but every instinct I have is screaming at me as she leans down to touch the flame to the fuse.
The little spark races up the string fuse, too fast. The wind picks up, and the fuse burns quicker, leaping up toward the barrels.
She spots it as I do, and she whirls away from it. I stand helplessly by the tree. I can’t move.
She makes it seven steps before the fuel tanks explode.
The flames blossom out behind her, and the boom comes an instant later. The building’s tearing open like a tin can, and Lilac’s thrown through the air like she weighs nothing at all. She hits the ground with a thud, rolling over and over as debris rains down around her. My body fails me, locking in place and keeping me from her. I rip my foot from where I’m rooted to the ground and finally start moving. She’s facedown, unmoving, lying amid a dozen tiny grass fires as the last light particles fall around us.