Birthright

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

(Sorry for the wait! I don't have a lot of free time lately, and I'm working on another story simultaneously. I stayed up late to finish this chapter. Don't mind the errors and stuff, too tired to think about editing now. Thanks as always for the support!)

Kray's chest throbbed as he climbed into the jet with the golden Meta symbol. Gritting his teeth, he squeezed into the backseat next to Alex and watched the two Meta guards get into the front. It was close to seven hours since he woke up in the infirmary. He wore a crisp Calsin Foundation uniform that someone had brought in for him about two hours ago. An agonizing shower in the infirmary—the liquefied bandage they used to bind his wound and help it heal faster held under the pounding water—a quick change of clothes, and no one would ever think he'd been stabbed less than twenty-four hours ago.

Except him. He felt like absolute crap.

He fidgeted on the leather seat and stared ahead at the back of the pilot's chair. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alex rub her thigh, her thumb moving in gentle circles. When his eyes flicked to her leg, she stilled and then rested her fist in her lap.

It didn't look like an unconscious move, something any normal person would do out of nervousness or restlessness. It seemed deliberate. Like she was working out a kink or something. An injury maybe?

The jet thrummed when the pilot turned it on. It lifted vertically into the air, hovering as the pilot maneuvered it toward the east, and then it zoomed off so fast Kray was pressed into the seat. He'd never been on a jet before. Trains, hovercars, even a helicopter once when he went with Alex and her mother to some solstice festive in Macot. But that was over five years ago and the helicopter hadn't been going as fast as this jet.

After a while, when he became more accustomed to the dizzying speed, Alex asked him, "How are you feeling?"

"Like I just got shot," he muttered.

"It's really bad timing."

"I'm sorry if my getting shot inconveniences you."

"That's not what I meant," she said in a clipped tone. "I'm saying it's too bad you don't have time to rest after such an ordeal. And before you blame that on me, too, just know that I have absolutely no control over what happens today. That's entirely my father's department."

Kray remembered General Drasse well. The man had towered over him on every occasion they'd crossed paths, his shrewd eyes pinning him down like a winged insect to a display board. If there was one thing he didn't doubt about Alex, it was that her relationship with her father wasn't built on love and trust. He knew how much she revered him. Feared him. Maybe even hated him, if she were honest with herself.

But no matter her feelings, she was more loyal to him than any Meta soldier. And if General Drasse wanted Kray walking around on his feet hours after major surgery, Alexandra Drasse would make sure her father got his wish no matter what the cost.

"Why did you lie to me about Sydney?" Kray asked her.

"What?"

"She came to see me a couple hours ago. We talked about what happened in the woods. And what happened after that. She said all you did was comfort her. Why'd you make me think you were trying to hurt her?"

Alex's hand drifted back to her thigh. She kneaded the muscle again. "You already believe the worst about me. I was just making it easier for you."

"So you manipulated me to get your way. Again."

She snorted a laugh. "Yeah. That's exactly it. I am evil incarnate, after all."

He didn't say another word to her the rest of the flight.