The Last Singer (The Falcon Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  Calia stepped back as if slapped. Uncertainty and confusion reflected in her eyes. I’d never crossed her before.

  “Well…you brought it up.” Like a viper, she struck out at anyone who challenged her. I’d seen it many times with others on Bokk Island.

  “You’re right. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.” My admission cooled her annoyance.

  “Forget it. Let’s get going or we’ll be late.” She walked ahead but gradually dropped back. Within minutes, she was a chatty magpie, regaling me with Hypor gossip as we approached a lift. Once inside, her finger pushed seven several times. “Let’s go up an extra floor.”

  “What? Why? It’s going to make us late. Plus, it’s against the rules.” I went for the sixth button but she moved her body in front of the panel.

  She shook her head. “Don’t worry. Dench is at a meeting this afternoon. He won’t be back for another hour.”

  “I don’t understand why you want to go to seven. What’s up there other than the science labs?” I knew they were there because Jarryd worked on that floor.

  “You’ll see.” Her crafty grin returned. As if sensing my withdrawal, she grabbed my hand. “Please come with me. I don’t want to go on my own. It’s important. Who else can I trust but my best friend?”

  Her final plea got to me. A residual childhood loyalty surfaced and I kept silent.

  The lift door opened. Calia almost skipped along the empty hallway. It looked the same as our floor. Beige walls and closed doors, then one door opened at the far end. Three men emerged. They walked in formation, one ahead and two behind.

  “There he is.” Calia’s face flushed with excitement. “I knew he’d come.” Her pace slowed to a sashay. She pulled her shoulders back, forcing the chest of her juba forward.

  “This is what you dragged me up here for? So you could meet a boy?” My voice rose with indignation. I resented her trickery.

  “Quiet.” She faced me and whispered, “Not a boy, a man. And, not just any man. He’s Prince Delio, the Premier’s son. Everyone calls him ‘The Little Prince,’ but not to his face.” She giggled, wet her lips and waved at the approaching trio.

  I guessed the front man was Delio’s son. I recognized him from the market, the one that had kissed Calia. Short and dark like his father, his chin was high, his eyes hooded and his mouth pouty. Privilege emanated from his haughty demeanor and confident swagger.

  Compensating for his lack of stature was my first thought. Not a very nice one considering I didn’t know him. Maybe he was different from his father.

  The two men following him were dressed like the guards at the lander, except for gold-colored epaulets that edged their shoulders. One was burly, with a misshapen nose that hinted of too many brawls. A permanent sneer warped his lips. The second was broad-shouldered but lean, more athlete than fighter. His expression remained impassive.

  As they neared the sign for lab five, the door opened and a gangly man stumbled out. He tripped and fell into Prince and then onto the floor.

  “You oaf.” Prince fired with rage and his hands curled into fists. The man tried to get up and slipped. The guards finally lifted the offender to his feet and held him.

  Prince confronted him. “Do you know who I am?”

  The man’s head made jerky pivots but he didn’t respond. Instead, he struggled frantically. His legs crumpled under him as his eyes rolled back in his head. Like a frightened bird caught in a net, desperate and vulnerable.

  I yanked Calia’s arm. “We have to get out of here.”

  “I’m staying.” Calia’s eyes widened with excitement.

  “I’m going—” I retreated then stopped when Prince lifted his arm.

  The guards released their captive. Their leader backhanded the man, who collapsed to the floor against the opposite wall. Blood oozed from a gash on his forehead. He whimpered and covered one eye. I felt his agony.

  “That’s what inferiors get for their impudence. You clumsy fool.”

  The shorter guard laughed, the other remained silent. Prince spat on the man, then resumed walking.

  Compassion and a mournful groan propelled me toward the victim, but the sneering guard barred my way. The threat on his face bullied me to halt. I felt his cruelty from two feet away.

  There was no support from Calia, but I guess I hadn’t really expected it. She’d found her man. Head nestled on his shoulder she was no longer interested in me. As they moved off down the hall, Prince beckoned the guards.

  The nasty one leered at me. Although forbidden to touch a woman in a juba, his shoulder grazed mine in defiance as he passed by. I heard him snicker as he strode away.

  I stood rigidly throughout the confrontation but sagged with relief when he’d gone. The injured man had disappeared also. There was no reason to linger. I had no prince to defend me if I was caught.

  Turning toward the lift, I froze. The second guard had stayed behind and was now approaching. He walked with purpose but his movements were lithe and without swagger. He was over six feet, like Jarryd, but his hair was coal black. When he moved closer, I noted his eyes lifted at the corners and were emerald green. A faint white line marked one cheek. Cool and unfathomable were the words that came to mind.

  Knots filled my belly. I felt more alarmed by his calm demeanor than by his comrade’s obvious aggression. His intentions were unclear. As a mouse awaits a cat’s attack, I scrutinized his every motion and expression for signs of hostility. When he halted before me, I thought I’d been stupid not to run. Too close, there was no escape. I was trapped.

  A strong urge to sing filled me. A low vibration tingled my vocal chords but died away when our gazes locked. In his eyes, I saw no threat, only compassion. Something unspoken and indefinable lingered between us. Did he feel it too? In the strange silence, my tension slid away. I felt safe.

  The swoosh of the lift door attracted his attention and drew his gaze beyond me. He offered a discreet salute then strode to join his detail.

  Curious about what had transpired, I watched his retreat—a little too long.

  “Brynna Bokk!”

  I shuddered and turned at the sound of my name. Dench closed a lab door behind him. Just my bad luck he had business on this floor.

  “Why aren’t you working? What are you doing up here?” He peered over the rim of his glasses, laboring for air. “Well? Speak up.”

  Loyalty wouldn’t let me incriminate Calia. “I was hoping to see my brother. I needed to tell him something.” The explanation sounded false even to my ears.

  Dench didn’t believe it either. He narrowed his eyes. “Come with me.” His tone brooked no argument.

  Down the lift and traversing the sixth-floor hallway, I frantically tried to manufacture a believable excuse. In the end, I decided to stick with the original one rather than spin a spiral of lies.

  “In my office.” He barked, arm straight, finger pointed.

  I hurried, but when he didn’t follow, I sneaked a peek over my shoulder.

  Carrot and Stick stood in a corner of the media lab with Dench. He turned and his face darkened when Calia strolled in wearing a satisfied smile.

  “Calia.” For a small man, his voice was deafening. “In my office.”

  Her face pinched at the command. She didn’t acknowledge my presence as she entered Dench’s domain. We stood silently side by side before his desk. When he didn’t immediately appear, she turned and grasped the front of my juba, forcing me to face her.

  “You bitch!” Her eyes were afire as she spoke through gritted teeth. “You told him, didn’t you?”

  I shook my head. “No.” I prepared to defend myself when Dench walked in. She dropped her hands. I smoothed the wrinkled material as he took his seat behind the desk.

  “You were both seen on the seventh floor. I’ve heard Brynna’s explanation. I’d like to hear yours, Calia.” His voice was quiet but annoyance vibrated every syllable.

  “Brynna arranged a secret meeting with a man and begged me to go along�
�for support—as a friend.” Her false concern compounded the fabrication.

  My fingers curled into fists. “That’s a lie!” Her treachery stunned me. We were supposed to be friends.

  The supervisor yawned as if suddenly bored with the circumstances. “Lie upon lie as I expected. You’ll both be fined.”

  I grimaced. Hypor provided necessary items; our compensation for work was small.

  Calia groaned in protest.

  “Quiet,” he barked. “In addition, I’m placing a reprimand in your personnel records. Be warned. A second violation and you could lose your job, or worse.” He flicked his hand. “Go.”

  My face flamed as we filed out, scrutinized by our co-workers. The younger ones grinned; the others shook their heads in disgust. My biggest concern was Father learning about the infraction. A fine and a warning was a relief, more lenient than I’d expected.

  “What are you looking at?” Calia’s narrowed eyes spewed venom at the onlookers as she trudged toward her workstation. She avoided me for the rest of the day, even using an intermediary to pass work information between us. She whispered to Carrot, Stick, and others while shooting me hostile glances. Ignoring her seemed to fuel her need to gossip.

  For the sake of our friendship, I had overlooked her selfishness and tolerated her nasty barbs. This time, however, her duplicity had permanently soured my feelings. The loss of her friendship was painful but I vowed to keep my distance from now on.

  When six o’clock arrived, I was first in line to leave. Dench’s condemning stare didn’t faze me. I was desperate to escape the stifling atmosphere of gossip and speculation. I needed to see Jarryd.

  I hadn’t counted on Calia’s seething rage. She ran past me, her hood blown back as she rotated her body to confront me.

  Her finger stabbed toward me. “Traitor!”

  The bulging vein on her forehead triggered a memory. It had always appeared during a tantrum when she didn’t get her way.

  Boiling with rage, her voice penetrated the length of the passage. The curious stopped to watch, some started to encircle us. Carrot and Stick sniggered from their ringside position.

  Her face was ugly with revenge. “I’ll make you pay for this, Bokk.” She retreated, shoving her way through the crowd.

  Anger at her betrayal festered in my brain, but sadness filled my heart. My childhood friend was gone.

  Those gathered sent me curious glances then dispersed. I dropped my head and hurried to the recpod. I had no patience with the slow movers in the tubes today. I ran as fast as my juba would allow.

  Tears filled my eyes when I saw Jarryd outside the recpod entrance. I threw my arms around his neck. Strong comforting arms curled around me. For the second time that day, I felt safe.

  He led me inside across a hard, black floor to a seating area. I sunk onto a couch, surprised at its softness.

  “What’s happened, Bryn?”

  “Calia…” A sob hitched my breath.

  “What’s she done now?” His tone held the expectation of a girlish spat.

  I wiped my eyes on the sleeve of my juba. I felt ashamed to tell him what had transpired.

  “Come on, out with it,” he prodded.

  “Because of her I’ve been fined and reprimanded.” I lifted my head when Jarryd laughed.

  “So have I. Several times for being late to work. That’s not worth tears.” He brushed one from my cheek.

  “That’s not all.” I gave him a quick rundown about her lie to cover her own bad behavior. As I spoke, I was surprised by the wave of fury and hurt that flooded through me again.

  “What’s upset Brynna?” Marta arrived, sat beside me and flung her arm across my shoulders. Not having a sister, the female closeness felt different, but her smile was warm. She leaned and whispered in my ear. “Ignore your brother. Tell me what happened.”

  “Sorry, Bryn.” Jarryd sat on my other side and rubbed my arm.

  Embarrassed and hurt, I repeated what I’d told my brother.

  “Everyone knows she’s a witch.” Marta lifted her hands, curled her fingers and bared her teeth, then grinned.

  I responded half-heartedly. “Unfortunately, Calia loves to gossip and the story will soon be all over the city. What if Father hears about it?”

  “I’m sure he’ll believe your version of what happened. You’re his daughter.” Marta squeezed my shoulder.

  “It won’t change the reprimand in my file. He won’t like that.”

  Jarryd took my hand. “Not to be unsympathetic, but Father has more important concerns on his mind.”

  Wrapped up in myself, I’d forgotten the larger issues at stake. “The planet, what about the threat?” Had something happened since lunchtime?

  Jarryd shrugged. “Nothing new. It’s up to the council. Let’s hope they know what they’re doing.”

  Marta nodded her agreement.

  I blew out a sigh, feeling drained by the events of the day.

  “Right,” said Jarryd. “It’s time to Bokk.”

  Marta laughed. I joined her. The phrase was familiar and meant he had something fun in mind. Energy returned when I saw his blue eyes twinkle. Then the memory of another pair— this time green—surfaced, then faded.

  “Come with me, Brynna.” She stood with her hand outstretched. “We have to change.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To introduce you to the elements of Steepchase.”

  10

  The Recpod

  The soft light and pale green walls in the women’s change room made the space inviting.

  Except for a few mirrors, the walls were bare. Even posters of the ruling council were absent. Despite the rows of metal benches and dull gray lockers, the atmosphere was welcoming. I even detected the low hum of friendly conversation nearby.

  Marta handed me a pile of garments. “They’re not very flattering, but they allow for movement.”

  I stripped off my juba, kicked off my slippers and pitched them into a locker.

  “You have a falcon on your shoulder. That’s unusual.”

  “Just a silly birthmark.” I’d forgotten to keep it covered. Fortunately, it was only Marta who’d noticed. I quickly pulled on the stretchy black top and leggings.

  “I love these clothes.” I punched my arms in the air and kicked my feet wide. There wasn’t room to do a cartwheel or I’d have tried. I felt free and more at ease than I had anywhere else on Hypor.

  She laughed. “And for your feet.”

  I snatched the red boots from her hand and slipped them on. “Perfect.” Inside they were warm and cushioned. Their soft soles gripped the metal bench as I jumped up and ran its length.

  She donned the same garb. The fabric clung to her shape. I wouldn’t have minded a few more curves of my own.

  “You look good.” She sighed. “Black suits tall, athletic women. I’d prefer some color, but it could be worse. At least these are cute.” She shrugged as she slipped on her boots.

  “I’m surprised we don’t have to wear jubas. Why is the council so lenient about clothing here?”

  “They believe in keeping women—in fact all citizens—strong and healthy. Jubas and exercise don’t go together.” She plucked at the material. “Heavier garments don’t breathe, these do.” She threw me a length of ribbon. I followed her lead, pulling my hair back and securing it. “Blonde and brunette, we look like salt and pepper.” She laughed. “Let’s go meet your brother.”

  We passed through a narrower door into a vast open area. The bright light stung my eyes. I thought we were outside until I looked up and saw the curved dome above us. Despite being enclosed, the semi-transparent roofing made it seem boundless. I was shocked to see grass and real trees, so natural I expected to hear birds singing. The air smelled fresh as well, without the nasty floral chemical smell pumped through the other domes.

  The wall behind us was a deep yellow. As runners passed us, I noticed the track was berry red. In the distance, I could see purple, blue, not a speck of bo
ring beige.

  “Amazing, isn’t it.” Jarryd stood beside us wearing similar attire, but his boots were blue.

  “What’s that chart for?” I pointed to the yellow wall where names and times were listed.

  “They’re the top competitors from the monthly sprints. The best times are recorded over the year. You have to achieve at least tenth place in order to qualify for Steepchase. These guys have been training for years.” He pointed to the top five names.

  “Years?” Victory dwindled in my imagination, but I still noted the time of the tenth-place competitor. Nothing was impossible.

  “Okay. Where shall we start?” My brother deferred to Marta.

  “I think the track would be best. Brynna will get to see the different areas as we run.”

  “Good plan. Okay with you, Bryn? You up for it?”

  “Let’s go.”

  I felt as if my feet had wings. But I hadn’t had much exercise since arriving on Hypor and I started to lag. Jarryd and Marta slowed to an easier pace that I was able to match. Others on the track shouted encouragement as they overtook us. Their happy laughter was a balm to my spirits. Perhaps my brother was right and I would make some new friends here.

  Marta pointed skyward. “Here’s the climbing zone.”

  As the track followed the curve of the dome, a stand of trees on our left gave way to several steep rock-like walls. They bordered the track for a hundred feet and almost reached the top of the dome. Black clad figures dotted the vertical surfaces clinging to multicolored handholds. Heights didn’t normally bother me but looking up I wondered how I would feel at the apex of the dome—if I ever got there. When I got there, I corrected.

  My legs started to ache, but determination kept me going.

  “This is the obstacle area for free running,” said Jarryd. “I think you’ll like this, Bryn.”

  I could see a variety of box-like structures, much smaller than the rock walls but equally challenging to those attempting to scale them and jump from one to another. People balanced on thin ledges, scrambled across nets, swung between bars and crawled through tight spaces. I was thrilled at the prospect of trying this course. I could already imagine running, jumping—pushing myself to the limit.