Temper Read online

  In the darkness of the tent, I toss and turn, too hot to sleep despite the chill in the air, and I torture myself with images of Asher’s arms wrapped around his waist. The same arms that held me last night. Her body pressed against his the way I held it against me last night. The curve of her breast, the softness of the inside of her wrists where I can feel the way her pulse races when we kiss.

  I could have begged her not to go. I didn’t. And not because I know someone needs to do something about the violence of the Lifers. It was fear. Fear she’d go anyway no matter what I said. The moment we shared on the lookout was a beginning, but I can’t stop thinking I might not get a chance to see what could happen between us.

  Worse, I might not get a chance to tell her the truth.

  Finally, the late night watch duty catches up with me and I sleep again. Only to dream of Zed following me from the ship. His cheeky voice yelling ‘Surprise,’ because we’d always teased each other and scaring me was his latest joke. And the look on his face when he realized there would be no going back.

  I turn again and the dream flips. Zed becomes Davyd. He’s leading Asher toward the edge of a huge chasm while I can only watch on. He laughs and teases her, completely distracting her from the perilous edge crumbling away beneath her unsuspecting feet.

  Look down, I beg her. There’s no sound but their laughter no matter how loud I scream. Don’t trust him.

  I wake to a female voice seeping into the cracks of the nightmare. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”

  I smile. Somehow she heard me, she came back. Her name is on my lips as I turn over and open my eyes. Except it isn’t her.

  “Megs?”

  Megs’ grin slips. “Who did you think it was?”

  But we both know who I was thinking about. I rub at my gritty eyes rather than answer, and stretch my arms over my head. Pain shoots down in hot trails from my shoulders to my fingertips.

  “Holy—” I bite down on the rest of the curse.

  Her face pales. “This is bad.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  She grips my elbow, dragging it up toward my face. “Look at this, you need to see Charley.”

  I let myself look where the pain’s coming from. No wonder my sleep was feverish. The scratch and bite marks from my attempt to help at the brawl have festered. What were long lines of red attempting to scab over flaps of skin, is now green and swollen in places. One spot on my wrist has become infected, stretching the skin and filling with fluid like a horror bubble. I don’t want to think about what would come out if it burst.

  “I meant to get stitches yesterday.”

  I think she’s going to ask what kept me so busy, and I’m all ready to not mention Asher and remind her of the funeral and the council meeting and seeing my mother, but she doesn’t. Instead, she tosses my jeans onto the blanket. “Put those on, and we’ll see if you can make it to the hospital. The last thing we need around here is someone else carried across camp on a stretcher.”

  She turns her back, and I slide the jeans over my hips, wondering when my whole body began to ache. “What are you doing here, anyway? I didn’t think you were talking to me.”

  “I decided that you couldn’t help it.”

  “What?” The fever isn’t helping my abilities to understand females.

  “You can’t help thinking with your …” She waves at my jeans. “You know.”

  “I don’t.”

  She spins around with arms folded. “Asher’s gone off with your brother, and you’re taking it personally.” Her smile is somewhere between sweet and slit-my-throat. “I, however, am not interested in you as anything more than a friend, so I’m choosing not to take your personal reaction personally. It’s simple.”

  The room begins to spin. “Yeah.”

  I’ve given up attempting to make sense of why Megs is here. I’m grateful she is and too dizzy to do anything but accept the arm she offers and do my best to remain upright as we head across the camp toward the hospital. My ears ring, and I know Megs speaks to people as we pass, but I can’t focus enough to make sense of the sounds.

  One foot in front of the other takes everything I have.

  “Don’t worry,” she whispers as we enter the waiting area. “I told everyone you drank too much.”

  “We’ll talk about the effects of a bad cover story later.” I try to put warning in my tone but since the words all slur together, I’m not sure she understands any of it. The condescending pat on the arm she gives me would work either way.

  A nurse I don’t recognize hurries over. She frowns and immediately calls for Charley.

  Excellent, I must look as good as I feel. My clothes are sticking to my skin in patches, and I feel where my hair is plastered to my forehead. I pull Megs toward the nearest chair, although the floor would do.

  I stop. On second thoughts, the floor might be better. It’s closer, much closer.

  My knees give way, and I slide to the ground. This is okay. I’ll sit right here. The black and white tiles are so cool beneath my feet.

  Looking down, I fight a laugh. So much for trying to act like nothing was wrong. I don’t remember putting on shoes, and I’ve tracked mud across the floor.

  “Samuai?”

  My head comes up at Charley’s voice, and a wave of nausea follows the movement. “Sick,” I manage.

  I think I hear her call for a bucket, but maybe it’s wishful thinking. It would be great if I could be around Megs for once without collapsing or vomiting. At least Asher is long gone.

  A green plastic container appears on the floor in front of me and I grab it, mumbling “Sorry,” to anyone in the vicinity.

  Then I empty my guts.

  ***

  I wake and lie there for a moment. My skin is cool beneath the loose gown I’m wearing—probably one of the horrible blue and white ones they brought from the medical rooms on the ship. There’s the lingering taste of sick in my mouth, but the fever has broken. The last few minutes before I passed out are far too clear in my brain. So much for not drawing attention to myself. I can only imagine the stories that have gone through the camp after my dramatic collapse.

  I open my eyes to a white, windowless room.

  This isn’t one of the usual hospital rooms. They usually open up to a courtyard garden to keep up the patients’ spirits. My chest constricts. I’m trapped. Somehow Keane and Charley discovered I know about their secret room and their secret tests. They’re keeping me here as some kind of guinea pig.

  I have to get out of here. I try to stand but the intravenous drip in my arm pulls me back. My hand is on the white tubing attached to the needle, ready to pull, when the door swings open.

  The unlocked door.

  Charley enters at a run. “What are you doing?”

  “I …” Telling her I thought I was a prisoner would reveal too much. I open and close my mouth a few times, hoping my expression seems glazed and look around in confusion. “I don’t know.”

  She settles me back onto the bed and checks the display of the machines around me. I blink a few times, pretending to let the fever take me, but then she presses a button, and I have no choice. Black sucks me back under.

  ***

  The next time I wake I resist the urge to escape. My head has cleared, leaving only the old ache. Too many people saw me arrive and collapse for this to be some kind of crazy plot, but seeing the secret rooms and overhearing Charley agree to lie about Tesae’s death makes trusting her difficult.

  I sip at a cup of water left within reach on a side table and breathe in deeply, appreciating the scent of fresh flowers on the corner table over the stench of dried sweat covering my body. The water washes away the lingering taste of sick in my mouth, and I splash my face, trying to clean off any that might remain on my skin.

  By the time Megs pokes her head around the door, I’m sitting up in bed and bored enough to consider removing the drip just to bring someone running.

>   “You smell,” she says by way of greeting. As usual she’s fresh and gorgeous in tight jeans and a cut-off jacket that might once have been a green robe.

  I sniff the air. “Sorry.”

  She shrugs. “You’re sick. It happens.” She reaches out and runs a finger across the top of the bandages covering my arms. Despite the material separating me from her touch, goose bumps spread in her wake. “Better?”

  “It no longer feels as though my arm might burst with every throb of my pulse.”

  “Good.”

  Silence settles between us. I don’t know if it’s what happened with Asher or the fact she announced she’s not interested in me—I remember that from before I collapsed—but the tension I usually feel around her is missing. Sure, my body recognizes her appeal, but I’m not a tongue-tied mess.

  “Thanks.”

  Her head comes up, a question in her wide violet-today eyes. “For?”

  “Dragging me here before I passed out.”

  “You’re too heavy to carry, overgrown that you are.”

  “I’d like to think of it as tall.”

  She huffs through her nose. “Whatever. You’d better hurry up and get that freaky-fast healing thing happening.”

  “Why?”

  She pats me like I’m a child. “Settle down, there’s no attack on the horizon, but we need to prepare, and there’s been more infighting this afternoon.”

  “More? How long was I out?”

  “A few hours. No injuries, but the most recent disturbance was near your mother’s place. She’s shut herself in the house and is refusing to come out until something is done.”

  I squeeze my eyes closed and flex my muscles. I wanted to get out of here but dealing with Mother will take more energy than I have. “I’ll have to talk to her.”

  “No hurry. At least she’s not bossing anyone around while she’s locked up in there—and she’s safe.” Megs flashes a grin and jerks her head to the door. “Anyway, Charley’s here to do whatever it is she does so I’ll make myself scarce. Don’t worry, I’ll be back later.”

  She doesn’t give me time to answer but blows a kiss and edges past the doctor now waiting at the foot of the bed.

  “How are you feeling?” she asks.

  “Like flowers and sunshine.”

  She chuckles, but I wasn’t trying to be funny. My glare goes unnoticed as she’s looking at the readout from the equipment. “Your temperature’s down, a couple more hours on the intravenous antibiotics and you should be back to normal.”

  “You’d know.”

  Her brows lift. “Excuse me?”

  “You’d know what normal is for me. Pity you’re happy to do tests but in less of a hurry to share your results.”

  She pales. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You don’t know about knocking me out a little while ago either?”

  Her brows gather. “You were fevered and a danger to yourself. I decided a few more hours rest was the best way to keep you safe.”

  “You like that don’t you? Playing god. Deciding what’s best and using your position to make sure the person in your care has no choice in the matter. You took samples from me when I couldn’t give you permission … or refuse to.”

  She sighs, and I think she’s going to deny it. Again. But instead she glances to the door as though making sure there’s no one to overhear. “This isn’t the time to have this conversation, but I would keep none of your medical history from you. You have been very unwell this morning. If we hadn’t caught the infection in your arms when we did, it could have been much worse.”

  “So you say.”

  “I do. Samuai you can see me as the enemy or not; I can’t decide that for you, but I can promise to share with you everything I know about the samples I took from you back at the station. You must remember that you were a stranger to us then, and a possible threat. I have no regrets.”

  “When will you tell me?” I snap the question.

  Charley’s arms fold. “You’ll be released before nightfall as long as you can arrange for someone to stay with you. Come by tomorrow for me to check your wounds, and we’ll talk. I promise.”

  I meet her eyes. “Tomorrow,” I agree.

  But I’ve been messed with too much to believe she’ll share anything more than she must to keep me from asking more questions. If she believes she’s placated me it means one thing. Tonight is my best chance to investigate the files I found in the secret rooms. They won’t be expecting me.

  ***

  “Hey.”

  I open my eyes at the sound of the unfamiliar feminine voice. Kaih, Asher’s closest friend, sits demurely on a chair pulled close to the hospital bed. The white marking on her face is stark thanks to her flushed cheeks. There’s uncertainty in her eyes.

  “Charley said I could visit. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “I wasn’t asleep.” With less than an hour until my possible release, I’d grown tired of staring at the plain white walls and watching the antibiotics in the bag slowly empty into my arm. I’d closed my eyes. That was ten minutes ago, at a guess. My brain’s been circling around and around, trying to work out how to make sure Megs doesn’t volunteer to stay with me tonight. I can’t let her find out my fears about her friends. But if no one else volunteers, I’ll be stuck with Mother. She’s not going to let me go wandering off in the middle of the night.

  Kaih smiles. “When I heard what happened, I thought I should come and see you. I know Asher would have wanted me to.”

  “I’m not on death’s door or anything so dramatic.”

  “That’s not what I heard.”

  I shake my head. “Killed by gossip.”

  Her laugh tinkles like the bell Mother would ring for service when I was a child. I always wondered what made her and Asher so close. Her gentle beauty is so different from the leaner lines of Asher’s body, the thought of which heats my blood. Kaih should be so easy to like, with her kind ways and sweet smile, but around her I feel nothing but a faint urge to protect. I’m aware that she’s beautiful in her dark green dress with its big white buttons that match her white plastic boots, but it’s more like noticing a pretty picture than a stirring of desire.

  Her hands twist together. They’re not roughened from work the way Asher’s are. Her ability as a seamstress must have spared her from the manual labor shared by the other Lifers on the ship. When she meets my gaze, her eyes shine with unshed tears. “Why Asher?”

  “She volunteered.”

  “I know, but …” Her knuckles whiten where they grip each other. “Hasn’t she done enough? Lost enough?”

  My brush off answer doesn’t come. Should I have tried harder to stop Asher going to face the Company?

  Guilt makes me shift on the bed, unable to find a comfortable spot. Whether I could have tried harder isn’t the question. I didn’t try to stop her at all.

  “She wanted to go,” I argue, but I don’t know whether I’m reminding Kaih or myself.

  “Does that make the risk okay?”

  “It makes it her choice. Caring about her doesn’t mean I should stand in her way.”

  “Whatever lets you sleep at night.”

  It’s like she can hear the nagging guilt in my head reminding me if Asher had stayed, our fledging return to each other would have had to withstand the full story of what happened to her brother. If I’d argued against her going at the council meeting, she would have another reason to hate me.

  I shake my head to clear it. “I didn’t let Asher go for my own reasons. Supporting her was the right thing for her.” I hope.

  “You’re right. But I wish she didn’t think it’s up to her to save the world.”

  “We’re all doing what we can.”

  “Actually …” Kaih stares down at her hands, tracing the blue swirl around her wrist. I have to wait long seconds for her to continue. “Without her here, everyone’s looking to me.” Her voice lower
s to a squeak. “I want to do my part but I’m no leader.”

  “Why not?”

  She blinks. “I would have thought that was obvious.”

  “Because you like peace and harmony and not pissing everyone off? I would have thought that made you a brilliant candidate.” I don’t have to force conviction into my voice. I’m beginning to wonder if Keane isn’t quite the hero I believed. Better than the Company maybe, but wanting to succeed at any cost. Kaih’s refreshingly different.

  Red splashes across her pale cheeks. “You think?”

  “You’re the dressmaker, right?” She nods. “I’m no fashion expert but I remember materials were scarce on the ship. I bet you had to intervene all the time when two Fishies picked the same scrap of cotton for the dress.”

  Another nod.

  “This is no different. Every time something needs mediation, imagine they’re fighting over a prime piece of cloth.”

  Her mouth twitches. “Cloth?”

  “Try it.”

  She stands. “I’m glad your situation is not as dire as the whispers suggested, and thanks for listening.” She turns to go. Her tall, straight shoulders suddenly look like those of a friend. One that won’t ask too many questions.

  “Wait.”

  Her hands are clasped. “What is it?”

  “I’m happy to help, and I expect nothing in return, but the doc said I can only leave if I’m not alone tonight. I was wondering if you could possibly—”

  “Me and you? You’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

  “Hell no.” Her eyes widen at my vehemence. “I mean …” I don’t know what I mean. It’s not a great move to insult someone when you need them to do you a favor. “I think of you like a sister. If I had one. Certainly not like a brother because Davyd’s an unstable psychopath. But you’re Asher’s best friend. She trusted you, and I hoped I could, too.”

  That came out all wrong, but I give her my best woeful expression and pray her sympathetic nature still exists after the events of the last few weeks.