“Where are we going?” I ask.
Trey leans near my ear, being deliberately quiet. I think he’s worried that one or more of the supernatural priestesses are somehow listening. “There are spix stables and training lodges several rotations, journey from here. It’s rural and close to the border of the Forest of Omnicron. That’s where we’re headed.”
“Is it in the Valley of Thistle?” I ask. I’ve been curious about where Trey grew up since I made up our fake commitment ceremony to fool the Comantre soldiers.
“No. It’s south of there. We can’t go to Thistle. Kyon will have patrols there searching for you.”
“Your family!” I say in a startled tone. The spix becomes restless, throwing its head back a couple of times and scaring me more with its wicked-sharp horns.
Trey makes hushing noises, settling the spix. “They’re already gone from Thistle. If all goes well, they’ll meet us at the lodges.”
“You mean your parents will be there?” This information doesn’t help me get a handle on my panic.
“They will. They’re looking forward to meeting you.”
“I’ll bet,” I mutter sarcastically.
As the spixes move forward, Trey murmurs, “You’ll like them, Kricket. They’re good people.”
“I’m sure they are. You’re their son.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Trey’s cheek brushes against mine, causing my insides to quiver.
“Good people want good things for their family.”
“And that worries you, why? You’re a good thing, Kricket.”
I scoff. “Uh-huh. I’m super good, Trey,” I say sarcastically. “Hopefully Charisma will be there too, so they can see what a bullet they dodged by you choosing to commit to me instead of the girl next door whom they’ve loved forever.”
Trey is quiet behind me. I glance back at him. “What?” I ask, reading the worry on his face.
“Charisma should be there too,” Trey admits with a cringe.
I face forward once more. “Well, there’s still a chance we won’t make it there, right? A lot can happen.”
“Since when are you afraid of anyone or anything?” he asks, nuzzling my neck.
“Since I found something I don’t want to lose.”
“There is no chance of you losing me.”
“You must not have heard about me. I’m trouble.”
“Oh, I know it. I’ve often said ‘There goes Trouble’ when you leave the room. Wayra,” Trey calls ahead, “what’s Kricket’s security codename?” He keeps his voice low so it won’t carry far.
Wayra glances at us over his shoulder. With a grin, he replies, “That’d be Trouble, sir.”
Trey squeezes me tighter. “See? Trouble.” He smiles. “You’re the navigator for my next thrill . . . and every thrill after that.”
CHAPTER 13
WORLD TURNS TO STONE
Only the wind whispers as we move along dry riverbeds and over lush fields that go on for miles in every direction. As we come to a small knoll, I chance a glance back at the Isle of Skye behind us. The horizon is on fire. Smoke rises into the air as if the city is the chimney stack of Ethar. Soft thumps sound in the distance. Whatever is happening back there is horrific. I look to the faces of the Cavars with me. None of them looks back.
Not too long after we leave, an Alameeda ship approaches us. Hearing the rotorless engine makes me dig my nails into my thighs. My legs tense on the spix’s flanks, causing it to dance sideways. Trey has to work hard to control it with the reins. “Relax, Kricket,” Trey whispers in my ear, “they can’t see us.”
I think he forgot for a second that I know when he’s lying. As soon as he notices my stark-white face, he amends, “They can see us, but they won’t. They’re using infrared. The blanket hides us from them because they can’t see our heat signature; they can only see the heat of what looks like riderless spixes. Since they’re not looking for spixes, they’re looking for other modes of transport. We’re invisible to them. Trust me.”
I relax my legs enough to make the spix less anxious. The other Cavars have let their reins go slack on their spixes, allowing them to wander haphazardly, giving them a staggered, unpurposeful gait. When the ship doesn’t notice us and slips away over the horizon, I sag back against Trey.
But, a few minutes later, humming vibrates the ground. Trey whistles softly, waving his hand toward a small copse of trees. We just make it to them when twenty or more low-flying E-Ones move in formation over the horizon line. They’re spread out at the same velocity so that they’re aligned for miles. What’s most disturbing is that they’re so low they resemble crop dusters working the fields.