the
kitchen and was both disappointed and relieved that he wasn’t there, though he
had been. The bowl he used for his daily ration of bland cereal was upside down
on a towel covering the counter next to the sink. Another bowl sat on the table
in front of the chair she normally sat in during meals.
A twinge of guilt
poked at her. Why did he have to be so thoughtful?
Ziri grabbed a
handful of fruit leather and stuck one strip in her mouth as she hurried toward
the ship’s command center. She poked her head through the open doorway. Ryn
occupied the right-hand chair at the front. His hands danced over the control
panel as gracefully as those of a wind-organ player. He was powering up the
ship’s main engine, the one that, as far as she could tell, moved them through
the galaxy every day in short, dizzying spurts.
The viewscreen
shimmered to life and Ziri frowned. That was her job, wasn’t it? Why hadn’t he
waited for her?
She slipped into
the room and perched on the edge of the other chair, studiously avoiding his
gaze as she manipulated the ship’s outside cameras, scanning their
surroundings. Another moon, this one as dull and lifeless as the first one he’d
shown her. She sighed and chewed on a second strip of fruit leather. He should’ve
found a planet with plants on it. At least then she’d have something to stare
at.
He reached
across her and slid open the panel covering the button she’d irreverently named
Buzz. She tucked the fruit leather into a clean pocket of her cargo pants and
slid back in the seat, buckling in without his usual reminder.
“Ziri.”
She sighed and
reluctantly met his gaze. His expression was flat, empty, so unlike the way
he’d started to look at her, with tender warmth and mild humor, as if it
pleased him to watch her. He jerked his chin at Buzz. Dutifully, she exhaled
and punched the button, and succumbed to the whirling darkness rising up to
meet her.
* * *
A hand pressed
tightly against her mouth and another around her nape. Ziri’s eyes flew open as
she struggled against the hard strength of the person holding her captive.
“Tuh, tuh, tuh,”
a familiar voice whispered next to her ear, and Ziri relaxed, her gaze seeking
Ryn’s automatically.
He eased back,
gradually releasing his hold on her, and nodded toward the viewscreen. They
were floating in space in the middle of a junkyard of abandoned ships of all
makes and sizes. One rotated slowly around and its command center, an oddly
shaped bump on the top of the ship, slid into view. For some reason Ziri
couldn’t fathom, dread shivered down her spine.
Ryn smoothed her
hair away from her face. His features were pinched and pale under his native
tan, and a faint tremor ran through his hands. He leaned close and brushed his
lips over her ear. “Belnyin.”
She shook her
head. That was a word she didn’t know yet, and she wished he hadn’t shared it
with her now. Whatever these Belnyin were, Ryn was afraid of them, and if he
was afraid, she had a feeling she should be terrified.
He touched his
forehead to hers, holding her still with the hand he’d curled around her nape.
His breaths were rapid and light and feathered over her mouth in warm puffs.
What was so bad it had scared the normally unflappable Ryn, the man who’d
boldly kidnapped her from her own home and shot another man in the doing
without even flinching?
His trembling
hands skimmed over her hair and face, over her shoulders and down her arms.
“Ziri,” he breathed. “Yarl Ziri.”
Abruptly, he
released her and focused on the control panel. His hands flew across it,
tweaking controls.
Ziri stayed
where she was, uncertain as to how she could help. He was… She frowned and
tried to remember the exact sequence of his routine before Buzz sent them to
another place each shipboard morning. Entering coordinates, maybe? Yes, there,
that was a systems check. He’d tried to teach her how to do one, but she’d only
understood maybe half of what he
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley