The Diatous Wars 1: Rebel Wing Page 8

  Without thinking, Aris pointed to Dianthe’s snake tattoo. “And that doesn’t draw attention?”

  “It does. That’s exactly the point. My tattoo is a distraction, drawing the eye so no one questions anything else. You don’t have that luxury.” Dianthe stepped into the lift and pressed the button for the lobby, staring straight ahead. Quieter, almost as if to herself, she added, “The tattoo is something that’s mine, whether I’m wearing the veil or not. It’s the part of me I always get to show the world.”

  Clenching her hands tight at her sides, Aris considered this as the lift plummeted downward.

  When they reached the ground, they disembarked without a word. Their boots thudded across the shining lobby floor, and her head pounded in time to the diatous veil’s constant hum. Aris watched Dianthe from the corner of her eye; the woman didn’t change her gait or posture much, but little adjustments—the thrust of her chin, the minimal movement of her hips—made a big difference. If Aris hadn’t known the truth, she never would have guessed Dianthe’s secret.

  As they emerged onto the street, Aris squinted in the bright sun. Already the city shimmered with early summer heat. The air swirled with the scent of cooking meat from a cart a few yards away, and the enticing smell of fresh bread wafted from the open doors of a bakery across the street.

  Aris tried to take long, confident strides, but she still struggled to keep up with the taller woman. Her limp wasn’t as obvious now, after weeks of physical training, but she could still feel a fine tremor in her weak leg.

  Sleek black and silver terrans zipped past them, like a school of shining, well-organized fish. The sidewalks slowly filled as well-dressed men and women emerged from the tall buildings in search of their midday meal. Aris caught herself staring at her boots, just as a husky man in a white mender’s tunic jostled her. He gave her a hard look. She blanched, frozen. Could he tell? What if he—

  The man kept walking, the moment of panic over in an instant.

  “Keep up,” Dianthe growled. She paused when they reached a steep latticework of stairs leading up to a metroline platform. “You’re too stiff,” she murmured. “Relax.”

  If only it were that easy, Aris thought, her nervous gaze flitting from man to man among the crowd. She watched the way they moved, really studied them for the first time in her life. Unfortunately, noticing their differences was one thing, putting them into practice was quite another. She followed Dianthe up the stairs to the platform, biting back a groan as her sore muscles protested.

  The metroline ride to Panthea’s main airfield, just outside the city, required one transfer from the River line to the Watershed line. Most of the seats were full, but the trains weren’t packed as tightly as they would be at the end of the workday.

  At one point, Dianthe dug her sharp elbow into Aris’s side. Glancing up, Aris saw a young woman standing in the middle of the aisle, gripping a loop of silver chain that hung from the ceiling. Her body swayed gently, her head drooping from her long neck like a flower nodding on its stem. Much of her dark brown hair had pulled free from its braid. Dianthe elbowed Aris again.

  Aris shot to her feet. “Would, uh, would you like to sit down?” Her voice came out low and gruff. She’d almost gotten used to it. Almost. At least the sound didn’t make her flinch anymore.

  The girl looked up. “Oh, thank you.” She sank into Aris’s seat with a sigh. “I’m just coming off a night shift at the central emergency clinic. It was a busy night. I’m about ready to collapse.”

  She tilted her chin up with a sleepy smile, waiting for Aris—Aristos—to reply. The words stuck in Aris’s throat. What would a man say? Would he be sympathetic? Understanding? Try to cheer her with a dinner invitation or something? When Aris didn’t reply, the open, cheerful expression on the girl’s face faded. Heat blazed along Aris’s cheeks.

  At last, Aris mumbled, “Yeah. Sounds like a rough night.”

  The girl’s gaze fell to her lap, her head dropping forward again like that delicate, bobbing flower she resembled. “Yes, it was.”

  Next to her, Dianthe sighed. Aris stared out the glass panel along the side of the train. She actually felt bad that she hadn’t made conversation. But what could she have said? Done? Awkwardness clogged her throat. Outside, gleaming buildings alternated with a bright blue sky as the train zipped toward the outskirts of the city. In the distance, to the west, green-swathed mountains rose, disappearing in a haze of wispy clouds. In the space of one deep, cleansing breath, Aris’s discomfort melted away.

  It was a beautiful day to fly.

  Chapter 17

  “So,” Dianthe said later that night.

  Aris sat on a bench, leaning back against the glass wall, eyes half-closed. It didn’t matter what Dianthe said, or how much her muscles burned at even that small movement. In her mind, she was still soaring above the lush forest outside of Panthea. She was still enclosed in the familiar, comforting cabin of a wingjet, and the whole bright sky was glowing all around her.

  “You were right. You can fly.” Dianthe didn’t quite sound impressed, but she wasn’t yelling either.

  “I passed your test, then.” Aris settled her hands in her lap; in the dim light, she couldn’t even see the bruises. It was the happiest she’d been in days, maybe even since Calix left. Flying did that to her. Made the rest of the world—the pain—fall away.

  “You aren’t going to be able to disappear into the ranks, with flying like that,” Dianthe said, almost to herself.

  “Is that a problem?” Aris asked. But she wasn’t really worried. Dianthe wouldn’t send her home now, not after everything. Not after seeing what she could do.

  The woman tapped at the digitablet in her hands. “Not a problem, exactly. . . .” she murmured. For a while neither of them spoke, the only sound the quiet tap tap of Dianthe’s finger against the tablet’s screen.

  Aris closed her eyes and tried to imagine Calix’s face when he saw her for the first time. He’d be surprised, of course. Maybe even shocked. A Military stationpoint would be the last place he’d expect to see her. His eyes would narrow in confusion, the way they did in school when something didn’t make sense to him. But then, when she explained everything—that she’d been recruited, that they’d be working together—he’d smile wide, dimples appearing as if by magic.

  It would be exciting, the way they’d have to sneak moments together, share secret looks. She’d be in disguise, of course. They wouldn’t be able to Promise, except unofficially, secretly. And when the war was over, or their tours ended . . . there’d be no more questions. No more obstacles. They would be together for the rest of their lives.

  “Where will we be?” she asked, still half in her daydream.

  Dianthe didn’t look up from the digitablet. “What do you mean?”

  “Calix and me. Where will we be stationed?” To the west, along the Safaran border where the fighting was the worst? Or by the shores of the Fex River, where large numbers of soldiers were massing to protect Atalanta’s resources?

  At this, Dianthe paused, finger frozen above the digitablet. The snake on her forehead kinked. “There’s a new search and rescue unit forming,” she said, finally, with a strange little sigh. “Report date is next week. You’ll join this unit as a flyer.”

  “Search and rescue?”

  “S and R is responsible for finding and retrieving stranded or injured soldiers.”

  “That’s where Calix is? In this unit?” There was something in Dianthe’s face, the way her lips twisted slightly at the corners . . . Aris’s stomach tightened, and the peace she’d been feeling leached away. She sat up straight. Seconds marched on in slow, agonizing silence.

  “Not exactly,” Dianthe said at last. “Field menders aren’t embedded with S and R.”

  “Then why . . .” Aris couldn’t continue. Her heart pounded as if trying to tear its way from her chest. “You said you’d put us together. I told you—I’m doing this to find him. You can’t . . .” Every sore muscle and bruis
e pulled painfully beneath her skin. All of this and it was for nothing?

  “Relax,” Dianthe said forcefully, setting the digitablet on the bench beside her. “Aris!” She reached out and grabbed Aris’s arms. “Relax.”

  Aris tried to yank herself away but Dianthe’s grip was too strong.

  “You’re too good, Aris. Your flying is too good. I can’t just tuck you away in some mender stationpoint. It has to be this unit. But—but—you’ll still see Calix. Do you hear me?” Dianthe gave her a little shake. “Stop acting like a child. I told you that all I could do was try to put you with Calix. You chose to stay anyway. Now just listen to me.”

  The words were starting to penetrate. With a gasp, Aris heaved air into her lungs, and some of the tension in her shoulders ebbed. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m listening.”

  Dianthe released her arms and sat back. She looked more frustrated than annoyed . . . and maybe even a little apologetic. “S and R units bring the wounded they rescue to field mender stationpoints. You’ll have many opportunities to see him. I promise. Each and every mission, you’ll deliver your injured soldiers to his unit. Every time you fly, you’ll see him. It’s the best I can do.”

  Aris leaned back against the wall. Disappointment still pounded in her temples with the strength of a hammer, but her breathing had evened out. It’s okay. You’ll still get to see him. You’ll rescue injured soldiers and bring them to him to save.

  There was something romantic about the prospect. They’d both be working to their strengths, and he’d be proud of her, doing so much to be with him. Doing so much for Atalanta.

  “This is really the only way?” she asked one more time, just to be sure.

  Dianthe sighed. “Theo was right about you, Haan. You do have a gift. I can’t let it go to waste. This isn’t about your mender friend, it’s about saving lives. Don’t you understand that?”

  Aris nodded, because that’s what Dianthe expected. Dianthe wanted her to be the hero, the hardened flyer doing her part to win the war. But she wasn’t a hero. She was a romantic. A foolish one, probably, giving up everything for the boy she loved.

  But you’re a flyer too, a voice whispered deep inside.

  “Now it’s your turn,” Dianthe said. “Are you still in? If this isn’t enough for you, now is your time to leave. After you join your unit, it will be much harder to walk away.”

  Aris turned to look out over the silent, sparkling city. When her father had taught her to fly, he hadn’t expected her to take to it so strongly. She knew this because he’d told her as much. He wanted her to be serious and concentrate on her schooling. Focus on being a duster for his groves. The fancy flying, the dips and twists and turns . . . it had never been important to anyone but her. And maybe Calix, who knew how much she loved being in the sky.

  But now . . . Theo had called it a gift. And Dianthe, the most intimidating person Aris had ever met, was telling her she was good. She made it sound like Aris wasn’t just a silly girl but a person with power. Someone who was really needed. Aris had always been the one needing someone else. All her life, her friends, her family, and Calix had taken care of her. And now, Dianthe was asking Aris to be the strong one. Those injured soldiers the S and R unit rescued . . . they’d be counting on her.

  Even if she didn’t see Calix everyday, how could she walk away now?

  “I’m in,” Aris said, the decisiveness in her own voice surprising her.

  “Good. Then it’s time.” Dianthe led her to the secret room. She stood Aris before the mirror, removed her veil, and pushed a cold metal bar against the back of her neck.

  “What was that?” Aris asked, staring at the woman’s reflection.

  “Your Military brand.” Dianthe set the branding tech on a nearby counter and returned the veil to its place on Aris’s neck, on top of the black rectangle. “The last piece of the Aristos puzzle. Now your disguise is complete.”

  Chapter 18

  When she awoke on the day she’d report to her unit, Aris stared at the ceiling and admitted the truth, if only to herself. She’d thought she would fail. Fail to pass the training. Fail to find Calix.

  In just an hour, she’d board a transjet to her stationpoint, and there’d be no going back. She wouldn’t be able to hide behind Aris the weakling anymore. She would have to become Aristos the flyer. And if she slipped up, even once, everything would be lost.

  Stop that, she commanded.

  Powering up her digitablet, she found a comm from Calix waiting for her.

  I miss you so much, Mosquito. Sometimes, after lights out, when I’m lying in my tecon alone and the wind is punching the sides so hard the fabric touches my face—it’s always windy here, by the way—sometimes I imagine you curled up beside me, and we’re in a tecon on the beach, and I can smell the salt and sand and feel your hair against my face.

  Most days, though, they work us so hard I fall into my bedroll and am asleep before I’ve thought to close my eyes. I don’t dream. I think maybe, for a few hours, I’m so worn out I just die. I’m so glad you’re safe and happy back in Panthea, though it’s hard to imagine you there. I love you. ~ Calix

  She wrote a quick response. Who knew how long it would be before she’d have a chance to write him again?

  Calix, I imagine us on the beach together all the time. Usually standing with our feet in the water, or hiding away in our cave. We’re always alone, as if we’re the only two people left in the world. I crave quiet and isolation these days, after the bustle of Panthea. When you come home, we’ll spend a whole night on the beach, like when you left, only this time it’ll be to celebrate your return. Time to go to work. I miss you. Love, Aris.

  It was a good comm: only one lie. Dianthe offered her plenty of quiet and isolation. But if Aris was really working in a normal office down in the city, the chaos and crunch of people would be one of the hardest parts for her to deal with.

  With care, she pulled on her Military uniform and walked to the washroom. She stared at the mirror, Aristos’s eyes staring back, trying to remember the feeling of Calix’s arms around her, the warmth of his breath against her neck. She bent and splashed cool water on her face. Soon, she wouldn’t have to remember. Soon, she’d be in his arms once more.

  She grabbed her bag. Dianthe had given her two uniforms, nightwear and underclothes, two pairs of boots, and a small stack of thin, high-tech shirts like the one Calix had worn. She had some toiletries, her women’s things, which were hidden in a boot, and her digitablet. Nothing of her home or who she’d been before.

  When she emerged from her bedroom, Dianthe was standing against the window with a man Aris had never seen before.

  “. . . and she’s still in quarantine?” she was asking, so low Aris could hardly hear her. “Will the sanctions hold?”

  The man shrugged. He was shorter than Dianthe but just as thin, with the same brand and shaved head as every member of the Military sector. As Aris.

  “Ruslana hasn’t appointed an acting Ward yet, so the policy hasn’t changed,” the man replied. “Word is she’ll be out of quarantine soon. Her husband is still causing trouble though . . . shouting ‘conspiracy’ to anyone who will listen.”

  “And who is listening?” Dianthe asked.

  The man lowered his voice. “Not many. Yet.”

  “Have they found her son?”

  As the man shook his head, Dianthe looked up and caught Aris’s eye. She turned back to smile at her visitor. “Thank you. I’ll be in touch.” And with that she shuttled him out the door. He didn’t acknowledge Aris, never even glancing her way.

  Aris followed Dianthe to the table and watched the woman pour herself a drink. “Were you talking about the Ward of Ruslana?” Aris asked. “Do you think she’s in trouble?” The sound of her low, gruff tone barely fazed her now.

  Dianthe turned to her with a strange, sad smile. “We’re all in trouble, Aristos. Safara is a powerful enemy.”

  “But you were saying, about Ward Vadim . . .”


  Dianthe’s voice hardened to its usual growl. “You’re expected at the hub in an hour. It’s time for you to go. Do you have your things?”

  Aris nodded toward the bag she’d left by the door and fought the sudden urge to throw up. A month of training wasn’t enough. I’m not ready. Her body was still battered and sore, and there was no way anyone would believe she was really a man. She couldn’t do this. What was she thinking?

  Dianthe grabbed her shoulders, stared her straight in the eye, and scowled. “Stop it,” she said. “When you question whether you can do this, you question me. I know what I’m doing.”

  “You really believe I can do this?” Aris murmured, trying to keep her chin up.

  The woman squeezed Aris’s shoulders a little harder, fingers digging into the already sore muscles. “Yes, I do. Do you know why?”

  “Because I can fly?”

  “Because no matter how far I pushed you, no matter how much pain you were in, you never walked away.” Dianthe gave her a little shake and pat that bordered on affectionate as she released her. “And because you can fly.”

  They walked together to the door, and when Aris turned back to say goodbye, Dianthe waved a dismissive hand, but there was pride in her eyes. “Get out of here. And don’t disappoint me, Aristos.”

  Chapter 19

  It was twilight when the Military transjet landed at Spiro, a small stationpoint located in a dry, desert-like valley surrounded by forest a few miles from the Fex River. Aris collected her bag and filed down the ramp with about twenty men. She kept her shoulders back and took long strides, but she still could feel the burn of a blush on her cheeks. Every moment since Dianthe had dropped her at the Military hub, she’d been waiting for someone to take a good look at her and expose her deception. But so far, everyone’s eyes had just slid past her, accepting her for who she appeared to be.