The next morning, Xelan pressed his lips to Tameka’s freckled cheek. She sighed against the blanket she cuddled and purred, “Good morning.”

Tameka twisted in Xelan’s arms to grace him with a dazzling smile that set her emerald eyes sparkling. She grazed his cheek with her freshly tattooed hand. Swirls and dots and rings. Whimsical and alive, like her.

Xelan promised himself to show Tameka tonight, on the train. For now, her supple lips called to him, begging to be captured by his own. It was the best way to start the day, really.

Rayne could wait.

Xelan kissed Tameka, filling her with the peace she gave him. They parted for air. Her thick lashes fluttered open and closed. He whispered against them, “Are you feeling all right?”

With Tameka’s eyes closed, soaking in the moment’s serenity, she shook her head against the pillow. “I know how to hydrate, unlike those amateurs.”

Xelan sprung one of Tameka’s red curls, fascinated by the delicate coils. He sighed, and she popped one eye open.

Tameka said, “You’d better get going.”

Xelan grunted as he sat up, fully dressed for the day in the usual get-up: black combat pants and a black tank. “Yes, ma’am.” He straightened his long body and stretched.

The hitch of Tameka’s breath and the scent of bergamot and fresh lemon let him know she was enjoying the view. Xelan needed to tell her he could smell her arousal without freaking her out. To some extent, it felt intrusive, but for an Icarus, it was a natural utility to choosing a mate. Although he was already ignoring the imperative by abstaining from servicing her.

Soon.

“Xelan.” His name left Tameka’s lips on a breath.

Without looking, Xelan knew she was arching her back like some celestial being as she sat up on their pallet. Tameka did this every morning. And every morning he sacrificed more of his resolve on the altar of his desire for her. His naive goddess was unaware of the tempest she demanded unleashed upon her.

Selfish, Xelan relented and drank in the sight of Tameka. The slim straps of her top graced him with a view of her tawny shoulders. The white material clung to every curve of her fit body, cut low enough that her pale blue bra peeked against her full breasts. Below the blanket, he recalled from memory the impossibly soft, topaz skin of her legs carved strong from regular exercise.

Sated for now by his audience to her show, Tameka purred, “Have a good training session with our fearless leader.”

Iron.

Xelan’s legs must be coated in iron. He peered down and only saw the same black cargo pants he’d dressed in earlier. But his combat boots wouldn’t budge.

Salivating, Xelan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and fought with every fiber of his being not to fall to his knees and worship Tameka. It was the least she deserved.

Xelan pointed a threatening finger at her and in a dark voice, he promised, “Tonight.”

Tameka’s eyes widened before he turned and refused to give her more than that.

Tonight.

Xelan tore down the stairs to escape one chink in his armor for another.

Rayne had asked him to meet her in the infirmary instead of the bloody fitness center this morning. This was it. He opened the door and peered around. She would finally ask him to amputate—

Xelan covered his eyes as soon as he found Rayne. He said, “Sorry! I didn’t think to knock.” He gave her his back and dropped his hand. “We don’t need your shirt off for this—”

Rayne’s laughter lanced through him. For such a somber event, she sure was in a pleasant mood. After a heaving gasp, she cried, “You have so much glitter on your face!”

Xelan checked the back of his hand. Little shimmering bits of mica winked and twinkled at him. Cosmetic grade glitter fell from him to the gray tile floor. A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest, proud to wear the mark of his woman. “It was a crazy night,” he called back to her.

“And I’m perfectly covered. I’m holding a shirt. You saw my back.”

Trusting Rayne more than himself to better gauge her nudity, Xelan turned and found her lying on the exam table with her back exposed. “What’s this all—” As he approached her, he caught sight of the tattoo gun and ink on the implements table. “Oh, no…”

Rayne said, “Xelan—”

“Nope.” He gestured, cutting his neck with his fingers. “Not gonna happen. What even makes you think I know how to use that thing?” Xelan pointed at the gun like it was an accusation.

“Tameka told me you had a wild stint in the 80s, and Tumu said if I asked about someone named Razor, you’d—”

“Let’s get this over with.” Xelan rushed to the side of the exam table and hygiene-checked the gun, needle, and materials. He was not going there with her. Ever.

Xelan made a mental note to talk to Tameka later about giving into Rayne. He wouldn’t even bother making a note for Tumu. Asking the old Tritan not to recount certain avenues of Xelan’s life with his Shadow would only encourage the tall bastard to do it more.

“Wow,” Rayne remarked from the table. She made steadfast efforts to keep herself covered.

“I’ve lived many lives, Rayne. You don’t have to know about all of them,” Xelan explained after cleaning the last implement. He noticed the black ink was already prepared for dipping. “What kind of tattoo do you want?”

“I want something different from the others.” Rayne shuffled around on the thin white sheet.

Xelan glanced away in case of any slips. When the bed stopped squeaking, Rayne held out a leather-bound book to him. He recognized it from the library. Every Iona library carried a copy of certain basic tenements for the visiting Brethren’s comfort.

Xelan frowned as he took it from Rayne. Of all the Icarean books for her to ask for, how did she decide on—

“Elden’s Verse,” she said. She arranged herself back on the bed, using her right hand to fold her limp arm down before resting her chin on it, facing Xelan. Rayne’s eyes glowed at him with perfect trust as they always had, eager and waiting for his next influence on her life. This was no different.

Xelan glanced down at the tiny book and he asked, “Why this one?” He passed a hand over the cover and tried not to let any concern show.

“I can’t read it, entirely. I think the Icarean is too old, but I can glimpse the cadence of it.” Rayne looked straight ahead at the far wall.

Xelan watched her take time to consider her words. These words mattered to him. This wasn’t any ordinary tale, and its relation to her meant this selection was momentous for him.

Rayne said, “It’s sad.”

Xelan’s breath caught.

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Fortunately, she continued to stare off into the distance as she asked, “Was it written by Elden?”

How could Rayne know? Did she know? No one knew. Not even—

“Xelan?” she asked for what sounded like at least the second time. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Rayne.” Xelan rolled the stool over to the bedside. “Do you want the entire thing? It’ll take up all of your back.”

“If you don’t mind,” Rayne said and straightened out.

Before applying the gloves, Xelan swept away the midnight drape of her hair. If Tumu so much as hinted to her anything about the story, then maybe she chose it—

“I’m cutting it off,” Rayne confessed, abruptly.

Xelan’s brows furrowed. He loved her hair. It reminded him of the proud Icarean women on Cinder.

“Because it’s a liability against… against…” Rayne’s voice grew soft until it disappeared.

Xelan placed his bare hand between her shoulder blades and rested it there over her heart. He ignored the angry puckered scar tissue his brother had left her. “We will go, and I won’t let him hurt you,” Xelan promised.

“Will you read it to me?” Rayne asked in a hoarse whisper.

Xelan bowed his head as it got very heavy all of a sudden. Rayne wouldn’t ask that of him if she knew the truth. So that answered one question. He cleared his throat and replied with a squeeze on the gun’s trigger.

It startled Rayne, and she rewarded him with a giggle. “You’d think being a super hero means I wouldn’t be so jumpy.”

“Being alert comes with the territory. I’m starting now.” Xelan dipped the needle in the ink and grabbed a rag to smooth over the bleeding. He took a deep breath and started singing the story as he carved it into the recently shaved skin of her back.

“I was the first. I consumed the first outsider and with him, I consumed a wondrous gift.

I was alone in my gift. Surrounded by my people, but they couldn’t understand me.

They didn’t know what I knew. Or see what I saw. The lights, the colors, the sounds…

They only consumed.

Li waited patient. We turned for her a million turns. Then ten million more. Like plants, we reached for her.

I tried to teach them about the cell. How it grew. About their part in the universe.

I waited for more outsiders. To explain. To understand. To speak to one as I spoke to no one.

No one came.

After the one hundred millionth turn for Li, my heart would no longer bear the loneliness.

When it cracked, I tore it from me, and gave to ten a bleeding shard of my fractured heart.

They consumed the shining stone from within. They spoke to me. Saw with me. Knew me.

‘Elden,’ they cried.”

“Xelan,” Rayne interrupted, her voice small.

“Hmm?”

“Can you stop singing it, please? You’re breaking my heart,” she asked on a shaky breath.

He swiped the most recent pictograph and pressed his gloved hand over a bare spot on her back. He continued the story:

“I was not alone. From the ten grew twenty, and so on and so. Hundreds of us talking.

But as the thousands came without wings and strength, I ordered to protect and keep your brethren.

Music. Dance. Exploration. Anatomy. We learned and taught each other so many things.

My happiness grew.

Two hundred million turns for Li. The planet shined. We were mighty and beautiful.

Our water pure. Our children born healthy. The crops grew and stove our hunger.

Cities gleamed in the night. Beaches brimmed in the day. A proud and happy people were we.

Watch us soar.

All that time, Li shared in my loneliness. At my happiness, she grew jealous and bloated. Red.

I spent half my life lonely. My family just made. I asked upon the ten elders to shield the world.

My tears are joyous, not sorrowful. I found a way. We will soar into the sky. May our sacrifice be enough.

Save this world.”

Xelan reached the end of the tale and the worst of the scars on Rayne’s back.

Maybe the cost of saving the world was too high.

“Well, what happened?” Rayne asked, struggling not to squirm after hours of lying still.

Xelan started sanitizing and moisturizing the markings on her back. He said, “The story of Icarus. Elden flew into the atmosphere when the star expanded. It gets fuzzy after that. Not much survived it. Some say the theory was sound; others think something went wrong. Either way, Elden erected a shield which keeps Cinder from burning further.”

Rayne said, “Elden’s Sphere. Like . . .”

“That’s right. Like the sphere around your planet,” Xelan finished for her without having to say his brother’s name.

She turned to peer at him over her shoulder, careful to keep herself covered. “But you made the one here.”

Xelan growled, “Not one of my finer moments.”

Rayne never needed to know how much ‘Nox’s Sphere’ set Xelan on edge. How much he’d dedicated his research to improving and redeveloping Elden’s constructs while maintaining a viable atmosphere. The pain he went through trying to convince Nox of the only way to make it work, and how his brother dismissed it out of hand.

The sacrifice too great for him.

Again, Xelan examined Rayne’s scars. She could never know of his discoveries in Elden’s realm. She knew few limits to her willingness to sacrifice for others.

Rayne interrupted his thoughts. “You’re trying to ‘save this world.’ Aren’t you?”

“The Icarean Prerogative. We all try to continue his work.”

Rayne sat up, and Xelan turned his head away while she dressed herself. She said, “Superman. Always trying to save the day.”

Xelan smiled away from her. His favorite Rayne nickname. But it must have been years since she last called him that… not since…

The gun fell from Xelan’s hand and clanged to the floor.

Rayne stopped shifting on the table.

His voice sounded thin even to him. “Rayne, how long have you known—”

She reached out and grabbed his forearm. “A few months now. When you gave me your blood, I remembered.”

“I-I…” Emotionally startled, Xelan couldn’t get the words out. He turned to face her. “I didn’t want to remind you of the trauma you blocked out. How much do you recall?”

“Two events. Were there more?” Rayne gently pressed.

Xelan said, “No. The car and the CoN member after the movies.”

Michelle had spent the entire day setting up the bookstore while Ray worked a double shift, leaving Rayne to all kinds of mischief. And if the girl saw an opening in her boundaries to push, she always went for it.

But the cultist bastard was a different story. Following her almost a week before, he gave Xelan substantial enough reason to eat him.

Rayne dropped her hand and swallowed hard. “He was a member of the Cult of Night?”

“Strictly forbidden to interact with you, I assumed he was crazier than the rest.” Xelan retrieved the fallen gun and started cleaning it on the table out of habit.

Rayne wrapped her good arm around Xelan’s shoulders from behind him and leaned her head against his. “Thank you, Xelan. I can’t thank you enough for all the times you saved me. For the friends you helped outside the Progeny.”

Xelan patted her arm, leaned to the side, and kissed Rayne’s cheek. He teased, “Elden, did I ever know how much trouble you would be after that first time.”

Rayne stepped back from him with a bashful grin, and the moment once again confirmed for Xelan something he’d known all along. This world didn’t deserve her. And she didn’t deserve what it would do to her.

Xelan said, “Supposedly, Elden said more on the matter, even though he died shortly after writing his verse. Do you want to hear the rest?”

Rayne nodded and glanced at her back to where the tattoo peeked around her shirt.

“I consumed Li in my victory. The light of her is within me. With it, keep the shield.

When the time comes, the light will crush the darkness which must then also be consumed.

So within eternity I will watch and guide from above. Keep the light burning.

Make me proud.”

Rayne stared at the pale gray walls as he spoke. At the end, she asked, “Am I more than a weapon?”

What a loaded question.

There was absolutely no straightforward way to talk about this with Rayne. Or any of the Progeny, for that matter. Honesty… Xelan said, “You’re not a weapon.”

“Caedes said I was just a bomb waiting to go off, and that’s what the sides are really fighting over. Me.” A vulnerability softened the lines of Rayne’s face and made her appear younger than eighteen.

Tell her the truth. Tell her everything, about Elden, about Celindria. Just tell her the truth.

Xelan stood from the stool and walked about two steps in front of Rayne. So tiny. So strong. He said, “You were not designed as weapons.” Coming clean, he sighed heavily and rubbed the back of his neck. “You are not a weapon, but with a nacre, your capabilities might prove astonishing. I don’t think we should worry about it until then.” Not a lie. He still told the truth and provided good reason for his reservations.

“Enki wants to give us nacres, right? That’s what Tumu said.”

Xelan longed for the days when Rayne took his answers without questions. At the same time, he was so proud of her for growing into critical thinking and seeking logical reasoning. “Yes. They get Nox’s DNA; we get nacres for you and reinforcements for Earth.”

“Is that contingent upon Nox’s—” Rayne’s eyes shifted down saying his name. “—DNA being a comparable substitute for the Pretiosum Cruor device?”

Xelan asked, “Is that what this is all about? You think if it’s not compatible, they’ll abandon us?”

Rayne kept her eyes to the ground, so he knelt on one knee and forced her to make eye contact with him.

Xelan continued, “It’s not required, no. We give them his DNA; they get us to Enki. It’s that simple. You’ll probably have a nacre before they even test the compatibility. The Tritans are our allies. They certainly don’t want this invasion extending to the rest of the Vast Collective, and I’ll bet anything, my rapacious brother plans to do exactly that.” He squeezed her hand to reassure her.

And Tameka burst into the room. “Hey guys, how’s that tattoo—” His woman sized up the scene of Xelan on the floor staring up at Rayne, squeezing her hand. Tameka went to excuse herself. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“Get in here.” Xelan waved her over and set her to stand beside Rayne. He took one of their hands in each of his. “Tell me, do either of you doubt Tumu or his help?”

“No,” Tameka answered, automatically. “’Cause if he’s playing us, we’ll kill him.”

Xelan wondered how his jaw didn’t break when it hit the floor.

Tameka said, “Now, if this is the cause of all this tension, I’d like to cut through it right now by reminding you both the train is leaving soon.”

All aboard.