Page 38 of Silent Lucidity

“Iamgoing home, Tenthil! I have a family there, friends, a life. I have ahome.”

Pressing a hand atop the desk, Tenthil bowed his head. His posture tensed. She heard him release a slow breath before he shifted his attention to the nearby backpack. He collected the few supplies that had been removed from it, returning them all to the bag save one—the blaster she’d been carrying when she tried to sneak out. His hand settled atop it, and he slid it toward the backpack only to stop.

“Eat. We need to leave.” Without looking at her, he slid the blaster toward the corner of the desk nearest Abella, turning it so the grip was facing her. He lifted his hand away.

Abella gritted her teeth. Tenthil knew that she wouldn’t use the gun on him. She’d had her chance—several chances—and she hadn’t taken a shot. She couldn’t stomach the thought of hurting him, not even if it meant her freedom. She wouldn’t have thought twice with Cullion; she’d have pulled the trigger over and over, blasting the son-of-a-bitch to pieces.

But not Tenthil.

“Damn you,” she said, glaring at him. She turned on the sofa so that he was no longer in front of her and forced her attention to her food.

Eight

Tenthil kept his arm around Abella’s shoulders as the small elevator—intended for use by Infinite City maintenance workers—rumbled to a halt. He drew her a little closer when the door rose, opening on a long alley spotted with puddles of unidentifiable composition. They stepped off the elevator together. Abella matched his pace, though she remained tense, and the hand she held against his side seemed perpetually on the verge of pushing him away.

She’d not spoken to him since before they’d left the abandoned factory in the Bowels. Hours of travel through tunnels, across catwalks, and up staircases and elevators—much of it with their bodies pressed together—hadn’t produced a single comment or complaint from her. He wanted to believe it was because she’d accepted her situation, but he feared it was entirely the opposite cause.

There was no sense in delving into it now—he had a plan, a way forward, and that took priority. As long as he and Abella were in Arthos, as long as they were on this planet, they were in danger. They could work through their interpersonal issues once they were off-world.

Unfortunately, leaving the Infinite City was a complicated process for people like them—people who’d been smuggled here to be sold as slaves to the highest bidder.

When they emerged from the alley, it was like stepping into a different universe. The dimly-lit, rundown, industrial aesthetic of the Bowels was absent here in the Undercity, replaced by bright neon lights, holograms, and sleeker architecture—not that most Undercity sectors looked newer or even much cleaner than those below.

He followed the general flow of foot traffic along the street, mapping out the sector in his mind’s eye. Being in the Undercity meant being subject to more surveillance, being exposed to more watchful eyes, but it was possible to get lost in the crowds.

They just needed to move quickly and carefully.

Tenthil glanced at Abella. She kept her face turned away from him, her gaze roaming in every direction but his; it seemed too deliberate to be an accident.

I should have told her more.

But part of him reeled at the little he’d shared with her. The memories of his earliest youth, of his people and his planet, were distant and faded in his mind; he’d been raised by the Order, where secrets were paramount. Onlythe Master and the Void were privy to secrets. It was not for one such as Tenthil to share information with anyone but the Master, for any reason. His duty was simply to kill on command—and allow the Master to pluck any desired knowledge from Tenthil’s mind.

That is no longer my life. It was never what I wanted, never what I chose. Now, I have made a choice. A better choice…

HewantedAbella to know. Hewantedto unburden himself, to shed the weight of the secrets he carried by sharing them with someone he trusted. Who better than her? Who better than his mate?

Tenthil frowned down at her. He recognized his selfishness in this. He wanted her, needed her, and everything he shared with her only made her more of a target to the Order. His instinct was to protect her, but he’d been the one who put her in danger. He was the reason the Master knew her face, her name.

And yet Tenthil could not let her go.

His chest constricted, and he longed for little more at that moment than to dip his chin and press his lips to her hair, to breathe in her scent and forget the rest of the universe for a little while. Her presence soothed him; he could not remember ever sleeping so soundly as he had while she was in his arms. Whatever demons usually haunted him hadn’t dared visit while she was near.

He released a heavy breath. He could not afford such distractions while they were traveling, exposed, through the Undercity. Tenthil’s bioelectric field would shield them from most electronic surveillance, but the Master had access to countless spies throughout the city—below and above. Anyone on this street could have connections leading back to the Order through a tangled web of informants, whether they knew it or not.

His gaze settled on a pair of Eternal Guard peacekeepers standing on a street corner, clad in their signature golden armor with vibrant teal markings on their shoulders and chest. Though their attire stood out from the crowd, the passersby paid little attention to them—the peacekeepers presence was intended more to deter crime and put citizens at ease than enforce the law.

He glanced at Abella; her attention was fixed on the peacekeepers. He guided her into a turn, moving away from the peacekeepers and onto a larger, busier street. Her head turned to keep them in view until she and Tenthil were swallowed by the thickening crowd.

The din of conversation increased in volume, backed by overlapping music from countless shops and street booths. Tenthil returned his attention to his terran despite his need for alertness; her silence now was in harsh contrast to their surroundings, making it even more noticeable.

She was still looking away from him, maintaining her stiff posture. Her message was clear—she would rather have been anywhere but tucked against his side. Something heavy sank in his gut. Her place was with him, and his with her. He still didn’t understandwhy, but he knew it was true, and he longed for her to accept it, too.

His discomfort only grew the longer they walked, and soon her silence was all he could focus upon. Silence was not the natural state of life—even after decades in the Order, Tenthil knew that. What memories he retained of his earliest years were full of sound—wind through the long grass, the hunters’ whooping calls as they returned with fresh meat, the stories and songs shared around the nighttime fires. The gentle rasp of his mother’s palm atop his hair.

He clenched his jaw against a sudden tightness in his throat. Abella had spoken often during their time together, sometimes even to herself, and he hadn’t realized how much he’d come to appreciate the sound of her voice in that short while until she chose to deny him the pleasure of it. This…this was too much like his life in the temple. Silence was what he wanted to leave behind.

“Abella,” he said, his raspy voice seeming so small and insignificant in a world of vibrant, rich, varied sounds.

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