“Substance.” She supplied the answer, looking once again at her own hand.
“Exactly. No warmth, no wind, no cold.”
She took another sip of her chocolate. “So, it’s like a three-dimensional film?”
“Not quite.” Dane led her to the edge of the central falls, where shards of surreal spray sprinkled over her face and hands. “A simulator can answer questions and re-create the past without having been there.”
“You mean I could ask it how the falls were first made, and it could show me?”
“Yes.”
“That’s—”
“Genius,” a tall woman with a forest green jacket stepped forward. The nametag designating her as a natural history guide peaked out beneath her flat lapel. “Twenty years ago, the Council considered settling the rest of Chivalry, but a young lady brought them here to see her new invention. She convinced them to protect the images they saw in the simulator. Since then, over three hundred thousand new places have been added to the list of protected sites all over the Alliance.”
Aerin cocked her head. “If a simulator can answer questions and reproduce the past, why don’t we have one at school?”
“It can’t be re-created.” Both Dane and the guide spoke at once.
The woman turned to face him for the first time, then stopped, staring.
Aerin sighed. How could Dane put up with this everywhere? “What do you mean it can’t be re-created?” she urged.
The guide failed to answer, but Dane replied, “The plans could not be found . . . after the designer’s death.”
“But it’s a computer,” said Aerin. “Aren’t the plans stored in the database?”
Again it was Dane who answered. “Maybe, but no one has managed to retrieve them.”
“Can I see the control panel?” The question came out of her mouth without conscious thought.
Don’t be a fool. This woman would never let you—
But the guide was still watching Dane, as if the decision were up to him.
His chin dipped slightly.
“This way, miss,” the woman spoke at last.
Aerin did not argue. She followed the guide and Dane back toward the painted screens, then under a black curtain and into a small alcove where, to Aerin’s surprise, the woman backed away and dropped the curtain, leaving Dane and Aerin alone with the simulator.
“Go ahead,” he said. “See if you can enter the database.”
She wrinkled her forehead, wanting to ask what was going on. But not quite willing to risk this chance. Her hands sprang to the keyboard, typed in the Allied entry code, and watched. The machine allowed her in, not even asking for a password, but she soon saw that there was no need for such a tactic.
She had reached only a superficial layer of control. From this section of the computer, she could view images, ask questions, or change settings. But there her ability ended. Every time she tried to probe deeper, a dark gold color flashed across the screen, forcing her back. “It’s shielded,” she said, turning her gaze once again to Dane.
“Yes,” he replied, as though he already knew. “Can you break through it?”
She cocked her head at him. “That’s not the point.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No. If the designer chose to put up shields, she must have had her reasons.” Aerin could tell by the way he clenched his jaw that he didn’t care. “Dane, did you know this woman, the one who invented the simulator?”
“No.” The answer was clipped and wholly inadequate.
Dane blew hot, then cold. She knew that. What she had not known was the startling revelation of the last few hours. How could the person she knew, with his almost constant sarcasm and pessimistic view of reality, come from a place of such beauty? And he felt that beauty. She had seen the look in his eyes, gazing at the frozen falls and their glistening simulated counterpart. She had not known he could feel that deeply. But he had allowed her to see.
And now he was hiding something.
Frustrated, Aerin let her attention drift back to the control panel. Then her eyes caught sight of a name, carved into the metal plaque above the screen. She peered closer, anger bubbling up on her tongue. “Designed by E. Madousin,” she read aloud, then turned on Dane. “What does the
E
stand for?”
“Emma,” he replied, his voice low. Then it cracked. “My mother.”
Dane dropped the curtain behind him and headed blindly out of the visitors’ center. Had he lost his mind, bringing Aerin here and dragging her into this mess?
It’s not a mess,
his brain argued. How could his memory of his mother be a mess? He had no memory of her. She was dead, had always been dead as far as he was concerned. Death could not be messy. It was life that was. And emotion.
Which was why he should not have come here. He knew better, had known better for years than to put himself in that room with the magnificent falls on the simulated cliff. It was like tumbling off the real thing without a ship.
The sound of boots crunching on the ice told him Aerin had followed.
She did not speak, at least not until they had boarded the plane and had once again taken off. He was grateful for her silence and ungrateful as well. There was something about her, something that made him want to take steps he knew he should not.
She rescued him from his thoughts. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t.” What did she have to apologize for?
“I didn’t know about your mother,” she continued. “I suppose everyone else does.”
“It doesn’t matter what people know,” he replied, keeping his eyes firmly on the view screen. The thick forests were fading, broken by the first scatterings of buildings. “They didn’t know
her
. I didn’t know her.”
“You know who she was. That’s something.”
Not much.
The buildings began to cluster into the city’s outer rim, and Dane checked the speed gauge. He was well under the limit.
You’d think I’d be in a hurry to end this conversation
.
Aerin’s next words surprised him, not the statement itself but the fact that she shared it. “I never knew anything about my mother.”
He suspected if there was anyone who knew less about his or her own past than he did, it was Aerin. Maybe that was the real reason he had felt drawn to her. Her past was even more of a black hole than his.
“My father never talked about her,” she said. “I remember asking him once. The look he gave me—it wasn’t happy, or sad. It was more like he couldn’t reach me. I never asked again.” A catch in Aerin’s voice made Dane wonder if she regretted the choice not to press her father for the answer, now that she never could. “I used to imagine he was thinking about her, though, when he would go quiet and stop talking for long stretches at a time. That might sound silly—”
“No.” Dane stopped the flow of words. She did not have to explain this to him.
“Your father doesn’t talk about your mother either?” she asked.
Not with me.
“She must have been incredible,” Aerin whispered, “to build a machine like that.”
Dane closed his eyes. For a moment the city disappeared below him, and he could see the hawk soaring again beside the cliff and hear the water pouring over the rocks. He had facts enough about his mother, had read about her. She was a wealthy debutante from another planet, had attended Academy 7, married his father right out of school, and even been asked to join the Council. She had rejected the offer and died young. But none of that, none of that told him anything. It was the simulation of the cliff side with its impenetrable beauty that was all he really knew about her.
He opened his eyes to the stark reality of the military base stretching beneath him. Its shiny black tarmac glittered with frost. His gut gave a sudden urge to flip the plane around, but Dane forced his way past the desire and swept
Gold Dust
into a sharp drop.
Once again, Aerin’s hands molded to the arms of her seat. “Shouldn’t you radio in your desire to land?”
He shook his head. “Control knows I’m coming.”
And
Gold Dust
slid to an abrupt landing. He turned off the plane and removed the strap across his chest. “They’ve been tracking me since I entered the atmosphere.”
“Tracking?”
“Aerin, this is a military planet.” He shoved open his door, climbing down backward in order to keep talking. “They track every vehicle in Chivalry airspace.”
Especially mine.
He opened the side luggage compartment, then froze.
There was no warning. No sound, not a footstep, but suddenly he knew. The knowledge came screaming over him.
Count from ten,
he ordered himself.
Ten, nine, eight . . . You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine.
And he turned to face the rigid glare of General Madousin.
Chapter Fourteen
CHRISTMAS
AERIN FOUND HERSELF LOOKING OUT THE PASSENGER doorway into the deepest pair of blue eyes she had ever seen.
“Leave it to my brother,” said the owner of the eyes, “to make a lady wait.” A smooth, pale hand opened itself in front of her chest in a gesture of expectation.
And she took it. Within a moment she found herself swept forward, lifted close against the dark fabric of an air force jacket, and set down softly upon the ground. It happened so fast she did not even have a chance to cringe.
The tall young man standing before her laughed at her shocked expression. He tucked a lock of blond hair behind his ear and lifted his strong jaw. “Paul Madousin,” he introduced himself. “And you are?”
Heat spread its way up her cheeks as she answered, “Aerin Renning.”
“A pleasure to meet you.” Paul took a slow step back. “I’m sure my father will agree.” He cradled her arm just below the elbow and guided her around the tail of the plane.
His father?
She almost tripped as she saw the older version of the young man she had just met. The eyes were the same blue, the skin the same pale shade, the jawline just as strong. His stance emanated strength, as did the chest sporting its row of polished medals. He was a full foot taller than his youngest son, and nearly five inches taller than the young man still guiding her arm.
“Aerin, this is my father, General Gregory Madousin.” Paul dropped his head in a gesture of respect toward the older man. “Father, this is Aerin Renning.”
The General’s hand twitched. Then his thumb hooked under his chin, and his finger stroked the side of his nose. When the hand came down, a smile spread across his face. Aerin had imagined Dane’s father as stern and strict. The smile belied that assumption. “Miss Renning?” He repeated her last name carefully.
“Y-yes, sir,” she stammered.
He offered her his arm. “It appears my youngest son has some sense after all. May I escort you to our land vehicle?”
Aerin broke the gaze, seeking out Dane. What did he think of his father’s surprise appearance? Her classmate slouched against the hood of the silver vehicle, his arms folded over his chest. He was watching his father, not her.
Unsure what else to do, she took the arm of the most powerful man in the universe and climbed into the vehicle with its tinted windows, two rows of facing seats, and a white curtain that separated the passenger space from the driver. Paul seated himself across from her, General Madousin at her side. Dane crawled in last, slamming the door.
She tried to catch his gaze, but he slumped in the seat opposite his father and fixed his eyes on the ceiling.
“I apologize if I showed a lack of grace at your reception, Miss Renning,” the general stated. “I’m certain I would have done better had I been aware of your coming.”
Aerin blushed. “I . . . I am sorry, sir,” she said. “Dane and I were under the impression you were still negotiating with the Trade Union. I hope my being here is not a problem.”
The older man smiled. “Nonsense, my dear. This family could only benefit from a female presence.” The general paused, then gave a wink and explained, “The negotiations were halted until the end of the holiday. Sometimes even the Trade Union is easier to communicate with than my youngest son.” The comment made her uncomfortable, but Dane did nothing to negate it. He continued staring at the ceiling.
“Tell us, Aerin,” Paul said, “what convinced you to spend your vacation here?”
The questions carried them along, Aerin finding herself without any choice but to answer. Dane did not once open his mouth. Annoyance grew within her at his sullen mood, but his brother and father made her feel so welcome that she was at ease in their presence by the time the vehicle pulled to a halt. Dane exited the vehicle without a glance in her direction, but Paul offered her his arm and whispered in her ear, “Welcome to our home, Miss Renning.”
She stared in shock. Marble walls stretched up before her: three, four, five stories high. Polished steel trim curled its way around dozens of windows as well as a set of double doors at the center of a huge, glass-enclosed patio. Silver wreaths circled the door knockers, and silver vines twined around columns every fifteen feet. Couldn’t Dane have mentioned that he lived in a mansion? No, perhaps not. Perhaps she would not have understood. Like with the falls.
A thin woman in a gray kerchief pulled open the doors, and Aerin stepped into the endless patio. Midnight-blue glass formed three distant walls, and an obsidian floor swirled with traces of silver and gold. It was like standing in empty space, as though someone had tried to remake it and almost succeeded.
A sudden softness brushed her cheek. From across the patio, Dane sent his brother a sharp glare. Paul ignored the look and winked at her, then pointed up at a strand of mistletoe. Embarrassment flooded her face as she realized the softness had been his lips upon her skin. Had she entered some alternate reality?
By the time she went to bed that night under a canopy of golden silk, she was certain of it. Her first walk through the house had been filled with one miracle after another: the pine logs burning off their scent in the fireplace, the fir tree dressed in a cascade of tinsel; the vanilla candles lining the piano, buffet, and wide dining room table. And Dane had said this was not a home. It was more magnificent than anything Aerin had ever imagined in her childhood fantasies.