Free Spark - ARC by Anthea Sharp

earth. He balanced on the glistening metal tracks, then took the cutoff through the bracken, his jeans wicking water from the evergreen leaves. Ahead of him, the hushing of the sea grew louder as the path dropped to the shore.
    Aran followed the trail around the last hump of land, and the sea opened before him, all gray and moving like a vast, living creature. He drew in a deep breath, scented with salt and crushed ferns, and scrambled down to the stone-covered slice of shore.
    Despite the dreariness of his life, his spirits rose. It was hard to be completely depressed at the secret cove, especially as the clouds turned silver, then pinkish gold. He walked along the water line, looking for treasure. Once he’d found an old glass fishing float, but most of the time only trash washed ashore.
    Dingy Styrofoam and frayed bits of bright orange netting, bottle caps, and shredded plastic. Humans could be such careless, dirty things. Sometimes he’d bring a garbage bag and fill it, though he’d forgotten this time.
    The debris wasn’t enough to erase the wonder of the sunrise. He wandered over to a bleached driftwood log and perched there, not worrying about the damp. His jeans were wet anyway. Arms folded, he watched the sky brighten to white, then blue, until he had to turn his face away from the horizon and the burning golden ball of the sun.
    Something caught his eye, right at the edge of the water, a flash of magenta almost as bright as Spark’s hair. Timing his steps to the tide, Aran grabbed it—a stone, water-slick and gleaming, striated with bands of pink and darker purple. It wasn’t the first agate he’d found on the beach, but it was the prettiest.
    He cupped it in his palm, watching the colors fade as it dried, then slipped the stone into his pocket.
    Without meaning to, he’d decided to return to SimCon for the last half-day. Bix expected him, and, hell, why not? He swallowed Spark’s name, and turned his back to the rising sun.
     
    ***
     
    “All is in readiness, my queen.” The redcap goblin knelt before the tangled throne, eyes averted from his ruler’s icy gaze. “Tonight we enter the mortal world and fetch the human.”
    The Dark Queen lifted her face to the star-dappled sky and inhaled deeply. Power tingled, almost within her grasp. The night tasted of wildness and lost dreaming.
    Soon.
     
    ***
     
    Spark opened her eyes, groggy and disoriented. For a second she had no idea where she was, and the anonymity of the hotel room didn’t help. She’d woken in hundreds of rooms that looked just like this one: beige walls holding paintings of innocuous landscapes, soap-scented sheets, curtains that always let in a thick slab of light at the sides.
    Then memory tumbled back into her brain. SimCon, and the rainy city she’d decided not to explore after all. And Aran.
    She squeezed her eyes shut, letting brief regret wash over her, then stuck the feeling in a little box and locked it up tight. Enough with the self-pity and tragic heroine bit. So she met a guy and it didn’t work out. Welcome to life.
    She wasn’t much of a coffee drinker, but she called room service and ordered a mocha, along with their fruit-and-pastry plate. The food was waiting outside her door when she got out of the shower. One of Burt’s guys was, too. Well, not directly outside, but sitting in the room across the hall with the door propped open. She didn’t feel shy about not being dressed yet; after all, she was wrapped up in her thick bathrobe. If she let the security team bother her that much, she’d be a walking mess.
    “Morning, Miss Jaxley,” he said. “After the official luncheon, we’ll be rolling out. If that’s good with you?”
    “Hi, Joe. And yeah, it’s fine.” No reason to stay around.
    She grabbed her breakfast tray and locked the door behind her. While she ate, she scanned the entertainment headlines on her tablet. There—the report on SimCon. She skimmed over the pictures of herself, and read the