Free Gentle Chains (The Eleyi Saga Book 1) by Nazarea Andrews Page A

directs me to a shower stall.
    There is a tiny computer screen that blinks to life. A green orb appears
as I step into the stall. “Enter command,” Leen voices calmly.
    “Um,” I stammer, staring blankly at the screen. Eleyiar rejected tech,
and talking computer systems unnerve me.
    “Not a viable command.”
    I wonder for a heartbeat what a viable command is before I say,
hesitantly, “List options?”
    The computer rattles out a list of shower choices, and I latch onto the
first one. Warm water gushes down from the invisible faucet, streaming through
my hair. My wings beat once, twice, water rushing over them, sluicing the dirt
and grime away. The bite of soap stings my eyes and I begin to scrub. Glitter
mingles with dirt and dust and water, swirling around my feet, vanishing into
the drain, carrying away the evidence of my time in the slave ships.
    I didn’t realize how desperately I wanted to be clean until I am.
    “Do you wish to end shower?” the computer asks as the water pressure
decreases, and reluctantly I give an affirmative. The water puddles around me
as I stand in front of a heat shield, and the hot air stirs around me, briskly
drying my too-long hair, my wings. My hair stands in uneven tufts, and I smile,
remembering how often Chosi complained about the heat shield we used to dry
back home—she hated the way it was impossible to control her curly hair, the
spark of static electricity it left. More often than not, she’d ignore the
shield, and let her wings and hair dry naturally.
    I shake the memory as the heat shield turns off, reaching for the
clothes Tinex has provided.
    The pants are black, a supple synthetic material. I tug them on,
startled by how well the fit. I wonder where they found an Eleyi style vest. It
slips over my shoulders, lacing midway up my back, covering me without
hindering my wings in the least.
    I pull on a pair of ankle-high boots, ignoring the knife sheath.
    An intercom chimes, and Sadi’s voice fills the room. “Can I see you for
a moment, Juhan’tr? I’m in the cockpit.”
    I swallow hard as my stomach lurches at the pull of gravity, and step into
the cockpit.
    And bite my tongue when I see her.
    Sadi is dressed in a loose, thin shirt, synth leather pants so tight
they make mine look loose. A pair of boots with a gold seal—her family crest—comes
up to her knees. Her hair is swept into a high knot, spilling down her back in
a dark wave. What startles me is not the clothes, but the color.
    Even on Eleyi, where we live in self-imposed exile, we know the
significance of purple. And this, this is not just the violet hues of a wealthy
family, or a bright shade of minor nobility. Sadi wears a deep, rich plum, so
dark it is almost black, with a shimmer of iridescence. It’s the color of
power, royalty, the highest social orders. And she wears it like a second skin,
as natural and regal in it as she was in Tin’s old practice leathers.
    It occurs to me that I am playing a dangerous game, attempting to
manipulate a princess.
    She eyes me, and approval sparks across her, a deliberate lowering of
her mental walls. I shove aside my flutter of nerves, forcing an empty smile,
and her eyes harden. “That won’t fool anyone. You need to make this believable,
or we can just go to Eleyiar now. If you can’t be the ardent lover, then be
cool and shy. I don’t particularly care, but make the cybertulres believe it.”
    I frown at her. “They won’t know yet, will they?”
    She breathes a brittle laugh, and it strikes me how different she is
already. The carefree, laughing, cursing girl I had begun to adapt to is
missing, replaced by someone cold and regal and beautiful.
    “I’m returning home. Even if they thought it was from my academy, the
cameras would be waiting. As it is, I’ve been missing for over two weeks. The
sharks were circling before we hit the atmosphere.”
    There, hidden under the arrogance, is bitterness, a slight note in her psyche
that sours my stomach.