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I spend some time in the gardens, subtly investigating escape routes only to come up empty. It seems like doors are coded to your electrical signature, like an Aelyd ID. I can’t even see any other entrances or exits from the courtyard, even though there have to be other doors—but the walls are seamless.
The courtyard is at least pretty. A large modernist fountain takes up the middle of it, providing a nice, trickling sound that isn’t too loud. Alien flowers and ivy grow all over the edges of the courtyard, cultivated by what must be an expert gardener. I’m struck again by the fact that plants must equal wealth here—and in this garden, that display of wealth is taken to its extreme.
It occurs to me that maybe Layla really did meet some guy, and that she’s happily strolling around in some garden somewhere. I’d like to think she’s safe, at least…but I don’t want to think she left me.
She couldn’t have just left me, right?
I shake that off and head back inside, where I amble around my rooms. Atlas says I’m not a prisoner, but I can’t find the damn front door; whatever technology they have, it makes those sliding doors completely seamless. Even if I wanted to escape, I wouldn’t be able to find the damn exit.
A message comes to my room as the sun sets, the words flickering to life on a screen beside my bedroom door. An intercom tells me there’s a message from Keon, and I head over to the screen to check it out.
My car will be there soon. Be ready.
I do as he says, putting on one of the dresses from the closet: a strapless mini-dress that I would probably wear out clubbing. The fabric has the same glow as the rest, though its base color is black, the light moving inside like lightning bugs. I wear my platinum hair down, and put on a full face of makeup—complete with dark crimson lipstick.
Why not vamp it up? Especially when I might have a prize waiting at home.
When Corvus comes to get me, he takes me a different route through a door I didn’t know existed, and we soon find ourselves somehow back at the spiral staircase. He stays just ahead of me, not looking, but clearly aware of my proximity.
We walk in silence; he doesn’t say anything. I assume that means he either doesn’t want to talk, or that there’s surveillance here, so I stay quiet as well. Soon, we’re walking out the door, guards seemingly everywhere as one opens a door for me to the grounded hovercar. When I slide in, I’m surprised that Corvus follows me, waving his hand at the guard.
As the hovercar rises, Corvus settles into the plush seats, clasping his hands and staring at me. I raise my eyebrows. “Can I help you with something?”
He relaxes slightly, a look of familiarity coming over his face. “You have privacy here,” he says. “Atlas is already starting to trust you.”
“He seems to trust you, too,” I say. “Making you the personal guard for his beloved wife?”
“I’ve been embedded in security for months—I told you that.” Corvus leans forward, his elbows on his knees. “Are you accusing me of something?”
I lick my lips. “Of course not.”
“Good,” he says.
Corvus sighs and leans back again, a little less threatening now. I don’t know if I could take him one on one—not that he would do that here—but the thought naturally crosses my mind. If he suddenly decided I wasn’t worth the trouble, what would happen? Especially now that he’s my personal bodyguard, it would be hard to escape him.
Why am I more afraid of my ally than I am of Atlas?
“You look nice,” he says. “For Keon?”
“Maybe it’s for you,” I tease, giving him a wicked smile and twirling my hair.
Corvus snorts, shaking his head.
“C’mon,” I say. “Don’t tell me you don’t want a piece of this.”
I’m teasing him a little, but I’m also curious. Because I saw the way he looked at me last night; I saw just how interested he was in having me splayed out on all fours in front of him, felt how he pressed on my lower back and pushed that plug so,soslowly inside…
“Are you always turned on?” he asks, interrupting my thoughts.
I swallow hard. “Scent again?”
“You smell aroused,” he says, “but not like him. It’s going to make my job a lot harder.”
“Like him?” I ask.
“Like Atlas,” Corvus clarifies. “If you smelled like another male, you might not attract so much attention—males are common enough on Aelydon, after all. But just smelling sofemale…”
That should make me feel gross, but all I feel is desire. I can tell that Corvus himself is distracted by it, and that thrills me. “How does that make your job harder?”
