{Gait}

Korac bolted upright on his cot, fitted with luxurious white sheets made from Luk silk. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and burned like mercury. He sought anything in the cell to distract him from the nightmare. The pillow, damp with his sweat, smelled of the oils from Monarch 3 that he rinsed through his hair. The ones Sagan picked out for him. Like the sheets.

Breathe. Deep.

Amethyst eyes. Freckled nose. Lavish lips. Brilliant. Sweet. Never satiated of her—

A ghost of his Sagan stepped into the cell a foot from his cot. The blond girl approached him with a hand cupped over her mouth. She stifled a whimper. Salt scented the room.

Korac sprung from the bed with his hands out, weaponless. Scanning her flushed face, he offered, “I want to check you. Will you let me touch you?”

A sob choked from her and broke his heart. Yet still, she gave a small nod. The former General brushed Sagan’s hair from her face and searched for external injuries. Tension racked her neck and shoulders as she cried softly into his chest. She trembled in his arms.

Against her hair, he muttered, “Are you willing to tell me about it?”

“What the fuck is wrong with the Tritans?”

The subject took Korac by surprise. He leaned back enough to search her eyes, red with tears. So determined. She meant the question, and she came to him for an answer.

Solemnly, he shook his head. “No one really knows the motivations for their ways.” An honest answer.

“No one with that much power should go unchecked.” Sagan’s eyes burned with violet fire.

Korac led her to the bed and sat them both down. He patted her tears with the sheets. “What fresh travesty brought on this unexpected conversation?”

She looked away from him.

Ah. This was her tell, then. When Sagan visited Razor, she felt the need to hide her eyes from Korac. Shame? Guilt, maybe? He’d have none of it.

The Icarus tucked a finger under her chin and brought her gaze to meet his. “I trust you in all things. I’ll never judge you for what you experience while protecting your people. Or anything, for that matter. You can tell me anything, Sagan. I will love you regardless of how wrong you think you’ve behaved.” Korac refused to stop the smirk from spreading across his lips. “Hell, I might love you more for it.”

The soft blush amid all those tears meant the world to him. Sagan looked into his eyes and confessed what he already knew, “I came from the Emporium just now. I… I went through with the first experience. And afterward, Razor told me about Gait’s formation.”

Bewildered, Korac recoiled. “Gait? This prison?”

“No, and yes. The entire planet’s establishment. It’s monstrous. I know you told me you were found here. Are you familiar with it?” Sagan curled her legs under her and sat cross-legged. Less sad. More determined to share the tale.

He encouraged her, “Go on.”

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Sagan pushed her short hair back nervously. “Just some insignificant planet the Tritan’s experimented with different gas compositions in the atmosphere. Eventually, it terraformed with this purple sky. But they withheld the same bacteria and DNA for life they placed on all the other planets. Preserving it for a darker purpose.”

Korac’s lips twitched with the urge to smile at her dramatic flare.

“As our planets formed life, the Tritans feuded with the Ancients for technology.” The turn of topic made Korac frown, and Sagan drifted further away into the story. “Those people were untouchable. Probably the only force capable to rival the Tritans. But one who benefited from switching sides betrayed the Ancients. The advantage turned the tide in the opposition’s favor.

“They chased the Ancients back, eventually to Thailea. In the meantime, the Tritans contended with the Ancient traitor. What reward fitted him best? They exiled him on the planet with a purple sky.

“They did the same with anyone who troubled their tyranny. Until the planet itself became a prison with no regulations.”

This was not a history Korac heard in his lifetime. Ancients. Tritans. A traitor. None of this.

Sagan’s purple eyes fell, and she bit into her lip. Obviously she withheld some ugly truth.

“You can tell me.” Korac pressed his thumb to her carotid and felt the flutter of her pulse.

“Korac, they made children work for that prison. The children born on Gait. I knew of the Prisonborne. But I never considered how few rights they had until recently when the Wardens enacted labor laws.”

His life’s story. Was it time to share it with her—

“Who built the prison?”

Sagan and Korac glanced at one another before the Icarus rolled his eyes. Fucking blockmate. The Icarus growled, “What do you mean?”

“Well, if they dropped people off as prisoners then the entire planet belongs to the inmates, right? So who built this prison facility and why? Why would the Tritans hide this history? It sounds fairly benign on the surface.” The man’s voice echoed through the hall with reasonable points of contention.

Sagan called out, “What’s your name?”

Korac raised his brows at her, and she offered an innocent shrug. Engaging a thug in this cell block seemed ill-advised, but alas…

“Remorse,” the blockmate answered in a voice thick with some unidentifiable emotion.

She smiled. The purity in it twisted Korac’s heart. Warm and sincere. For a stranger’s sake. The concept was foreign to him. Then she shocked him further, “I like your kind of thinking, Remorse. I’ll add your questions to my research. Anything else you want to contribute? Like why you’re in here?”

After a stretch of silence, Remorse shut down, “That’s enough talking for now.”

Sagan turned back to face Korac. The pout to her lips at Remorse’s rejection affected him. It was a slight at most, but her personal response to it made him want to rip his blockmate’s limbs off until he apologized and made friends.

The former General barked out a laugh. She screwed her face up at him, and it warmed his laughter. He kissed her confused, pouty lips and filled with happiness even while stuck in a cell.

“I think my experience at Razor’s involved you somehow.”

That sobered Korac instantly. “Why?”

She shook her head slightly as she grasped at the memory. “Your voice. I heard it.”

So, the rumors were true. Korac cleared his throat before offering, “After The Vacating, Xelan traveled great distances to track Celindria. I understand at one point he crossed paths with Razor. It’s why I sought the Pain Curator out, which ultimately led to Nox’s access to Cascading Light.”

Her short hair bounced as she nodded. “I think that makes sense. I was unprepared for it. I can barely remember it. Is that because it’s not my memory?”

Korac lifted Sagan’s hand and kissed her palm. “Yes.” Then placed a kiss on her fingertip. “I understand it’s an intense experience.”

She stared, fixated at his attentions. She forgot to breathe, and when she finally remembered to exhale, it left on a feminine sigh. “At first it was intense, but then I felt empty after.”

He sucked the tip of her finger and pricked it with his fang. She inhaled sharply, and her eyes fluttered closed. Between laps of her blood, he explained, “I understand there’s only one true remedy for it.”

Breathless, she asked, “What’s that?”

“Proper administration of real stimulation.”

She swallowed hard enough for him to hear. “Yes…” Her eyes rolled back as he nipped at her wrist. “Yes. I already feel better.”

Korac chuckled. He loved her utter relinquishment to him. “Then why don’t you show me everywhere the nasty simulation touched you. I’ll kiss it and make it better.”

And lick. And suck. And bite.