“Let’s go,” Arek says, as he climbs in the car next to me.
“Briston?” Kilon asks from the front seat.
“Give him a moment,” Arek suggests.
In front of the car, Briston speaks intimately with Elizabeth. She touches his cheek with her fingertips, and he smiles sweetly.
Sassi starts the car.
Soon Elizabeth comes to my open window. Her hand touches my arm. “Be careful. I won’t see you for a while . . . but just promise me you’ll be careful.” Then she looks across the seat at Arek. “Keep her safe.”
“I will,” he says quietly.
Then, even in the thigh high snow, she gracefully ducks into the car and they drive away. Briston watches the car until it is out of sight then he sits in the back seat across from us.
I pull my shirt up and wipe the blood from my face, checking my nose to make sure it isn’t broken.
Arek touches my back as I lean forward and then he carefully checks the wound where Japha’s knife was only minutes before.
“It should be gone, right?” I ask.
“Not yet. You’re at your weakest right now. You’ll heal faster in time.”
The cars roar along the slick roads and soon we pass signs with the names of several towns. Not once has Sassi ever asked a question or needed help in where to go. Her confidence is intriguing.
“Have you heard from the Powers?” Arek asks Briston.
“Not all of them. I’m pressing for next week.”
“That’s too long,” Arek states.
“I understand. There’s not much choice. With everything going on we haven’t a choice.”
“Let’s just hope Navin lays off.” Arek puts on his sunglasses.
“Why is Navin able to do all of this?” I ask. “If you are one of the leaders of the Protectors—why not just arrest him?”
“He has been arrested many times,” Briston begins, “but he’s got people working for him everywhere and these people somehow manage to slip him out from under our noses every time.”
“He has people in the Cellar?” I ask.
“Yes. But even if we arrest Navin, there’s an entire community of rebels that we have to fight.”
“One at a time seems better than nothing,” I say under my breath.
Every person in the car smiles. “What?” I ask, confused.
Arek shakes his head. “That’s just something Remy said every day.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I have never seen a private jet before. I stare at it for a moment, before Briston leads us up the ramp. Peter comes to my side. “It’s the best. One of the largest private Boeing 747s.” He’s young and impressed.
“So this is just normal in this world?” I ask him.
He smiles, “For some. For the Elite.”
As we walk on the plane, I notice “Landolin Enterprises” inscribed on the tailfin. Our clothes, even though most of us are still wet from snow, aggressively blow to the right from the wind. To keep my dry eyes from tearing, I block them with my shirt.
More moments of déjà vu hit me when we enter the belly and the stewardess is waiting with a smile.
“I’m glad you are all okay, sir,” she says to Briston.
“I wouldn’t say that.” He smiles as he passes her. “Make sure the pilots are ready as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir,” she says, and hurries to the flight deck to knock.
Briston is intimidating. They have yet to tell me why he is of so much power and importance, but the ability he has to direct a room states clearly that he is used to being treated with reverence. Nothing seems important enough to say, so I find myself quiet around him.
We had driven nearly an hour to reach this airport and now the afternoon sun is falling as fast as my energy. The plane is extraordinary—tan leather seats and deep blue carpet with a large emblem of the letters L and E: Landolin Enterprises.
When I don’t know where to sit, Arek takes my arm. “Are you okay?”
I nod.
“Follow me.” He takes my hand and leads me through a hallway then up a set of stairs. There are no doors, but a wall sections off each room. We pass several, then he and I are standing in front of a large bed in a small room. It is beautifully presented with deep blue—almost black—blankets and large over-stuffed pillows in white cases.
“What is this?”
