Free Flame by Amy Kathleen Ryan Page A

leader, he was a complete failure. He rinsed his razor in the steaming water, then turned off the faucet. In the quiet, he heard laughter coming from the living room. Someone was here.
    He opened the bathroom door to find his mother sitting with Felicity on the large orange couch, eating cookies and drinking fruit juice. Felicity had made his mother laugh, a lightweight giggle he hadn’t heard in months, and Felicity smiled in a way that made her cheeks glow. When she noticed him standing in the doorway, she stood. “Kieran!”
    “Hi, Felicity,” he said and tripped on his own feet as he left the bathroom. He wanted to ask what she was doing here, but he couldn’t think how without sounding rude.
    “Do you remember that dance recital we were in together when we were little?” She asked. “I think we were…”
    She looked at Kieran’s mother, who said, “No more than seven.”
    “We were square dancing, and you and I knocked heads during the do-si-do?”
    “I felt really bad about that,” Kieran said, wincing at the memory.
    “You helped me off the floor,” Felicity said, her bright eyes wandering over his face. “You were always a gentleman. Even back then.”
    “He’s a good boy,” Lena said, smiling at her son. Talking about the old days had done her some good, Kieran could see. Her amber eyes glowed in a way he hadn’t seen since before the initial attack, and she looked relaxed and easy in Felicity’s company. “I’ll leave you two alone,” she said as she stood up. “Sit down, Kieran.”
    Kieran had never felt so awkward as he stumbled toward the couch, minutely aware that Felicity was watching him. Her eyelashes were blond, he realized as he took his seat next to her. He’d never noticed that. And her eyebrows were a shade darker than her light blond hair. His face burned as he realized he was staring, and he turned away to pour himself a glass of juice. He took a few sips to calm himself, but he hardly tasted it.
    He was embarrassed to have Felicity see the opulent surroundings Mather had provided for him. A large oval porthole behind the couch where she sat showed a view of the galaxy, and the spacious living room was lavishly decorated with paintings and objets d’art. A thick rug in an ancient Persian design lay diagonally on the floor, leading the eye toward the bright kitchen and dining area. His own bedroom was even worse, with satin sheets, down pillows, and an original painting by Kandinsky hanging on the wall. As soon as he’d seen this place, he’d known Mather must be buttering him up for something, and it made him feel dirty to live here. Now, seeing it all through Felicity’s eyes, he felt even worse.
    “Pastor Mather is sending me around to Empyrean survivors,” Felicity said, having recognized the question in his eyes. “I’m kind of an ambassador, I guess.”
    “Oh,” Kieran said. “Because you’ve been here so long.”
    “I’ve ‘successfully assimilated’ is how she put it,” Felicity said, not without bitter irony. She looked him over with frank concern. “How are you?”
    “I’m fine. Of course. Just fine.”
    “Really?” She raised one eyebrow, her eyes moving from his tense mouth to his fidgeting fingers.
    He laughed. “Don’t look so skeptical.”
    “I won’t, if you’ll tell me the truth.”
    He leaned back into the couch cushions. Her candor stripped away his thin layer of pretense, and all the devastation of the past week flooded through him. I’m not fine. How can I ever be fine again? He didn’t want to cry in front of her, but he couldn’t speak without crying, so he said nothing.
    “I’m sorry, Kieran,” she whispered. “About everything.”
    “You lost everything, too,” he managed to say.
    “I’ve had more time to come to terms with it,” she said with a sad smile. “I knew when I got off Waverly’s escape shuttle all those months ago that I’d probably never see my family again.”
    He studied her. She’d lowered her