Page 17 of Star Bringer
It sounds enough like an order that it gets my back way the hell up, but I let it go as I kneel beside her.
Her friend gives a horrified gasp, but I ignore her, too, as I grab the heavy, stone-encrusted material.Are the jewels real?I wonder as I try to figure out the best way to cut the damn thing. If they are, she’s walking around wearing enough wealth to feed a good portion of my home planet for a month.
Fucking Ruling Families.
A slit up the front would be easiest, but it’s so long she’ll likely still trip and break her royal neck. So, I hack away at it just above her knees. Beneath it, her long legs are bare and she’s wearingveryhigh heels.
She follows my gaze, then kicks them off with a scowl. “Are we going? Or waiting around here all day?”
“Going.” I drag my gaze from her bare legs by reminding myself they belong to a princess. Then I’m off and running.
I hear them behind me but don’t slow. I’ve already gone fucking way beyond the call of duty.
I’m racing toward the open docking-bay doors up ahead, determined to make it before shit goes any more sideways. I’m almost there, but then another explosion rips through the ship, and I go careening into the wall.
“What the fuck is happening on this fucking piece of shit?” I roar.
I push off the wall and dive for the door as behind me, I hear someone stumble and fall.
Don’tlook back.It’s not your problem. None of this is your fucking problem.
They’re words to live by—literally—but I whirl around anyway, just in time to see the princess running back toward her fallen friend. But she only makes it a few steps before another blast hits us and she crashes to the floor just as a bulkhead slams down between them.
“No!” the princess screams, scrambling to her feet and banging her fists on the metal. “Lara? Lara!”
“It’s too late,” I tell her. “She’s gone.”
She ignores me, running her hands along the edges of the metal door as though she can find a way through. Not going to happen. Max and I have studied all the plans of this station, and once that particular fucker closes, nothing is opening it until the state of emergency is over. And judging from the way the ship is bucking like a pissed-off ocewallen, that’s not happening anytime soon.
“You can’t open it,” I point out in my most reasonable tone.
“But I can’t leave her. I just can’t.” She pounds on the door.
“Damn it,” I growl. “We don’t have time for this. The ship—”
“Princess Kalinda.” Someone speaks from behind me, and I glance around. It’s one of the people in the weird white robes—a girl with long braided blond hair and a sweet face. “It’s not safe. You have more people depending on you than are on this ship. And your duty is to the many, not the one. You have to come away from there.”
I can see from the expression on the princess’s face that she doesn’t want to listen—not to the advice and not to the speaker giving it. But the girl lays a hand on her shoulder, and the princess’s whole body seems to sag.
She turns her head, and their eyes meet in some kind of communication I just don’t get. The princess blinks, and I think she’s about to cry. I’m not sure I want to be around if she does. But her back stiffens before she sheds a tear, and instead, she reaches out, touching her fingers briefly to the metal bulkhead before turning away.
Thank God. I turn as well and feel relief tug at my shoulders because Max is standing there, one eyebrow raised. He tosses me a bag—my kit—and I snag it out of the air one-handed.
He lifts a brow, and though he doesn’t say it in my mind, I know he’s calling me a show-off.
“Nice catch,” is what he says instead.
I ignore it. “About fucking time.”
“Hey, I’ve been waiting for you as instructed. You’re the one who’s late.”
“I’ve been saving damsels in distress.”
He frowns. “That doesn’t sound like you.”
I wave a hand to encompass the little group. Along with the princess and the blonde, there’s a big dude in a long white robe—Seratian from the look of him. He seems about as happy as I feel.
“Meet Princess Kalinda,” I tell Max.
