I gave a slow nod. “I’ll keep your secret, Dek.”
His shoulders relaxed.
“I guess there’s only one thing to do now.” I watched him tense again. “I’ll have to help you find out who was truly behind it."
Deklyn's face broke into the first genuine smile I'd seen from him since our reunion. “You will?”
“Of course. We’re brothers, aren’t we?” I shot him a wicked grin. “Besides, Sasha is about to become family.”
His scowl morphed into a grin, and he raised his glass toward mine. "To revenge.”
"To justice," I corrected, clinking my glass against his.
We swallowed our whiskey, both silent as it warmed our throats. Then I couldn't resist asking what had been nagging at me.
“If the wedding is a trap, then you aren’t really engaged?”
He shook his head.
“But you’re pretending to be?”
A sharp nod.
“Which means you’re doing all the things couples on the station do, from all the wedding planning to staying in a fantasy suite, but it’s all for show?”
Deklyn released a tortured groan. “I think we’re going to need more whiskey.”
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
Sasha
Ilay fully dressed on the enormous bed, staring up at the silk canopy that the fake tropical breeze stirred gently. My ears still rang with the echoes of Serge's nonstop chatter from our afternoon of dress shopping. It had been an endless stream of commentary about necklines and train lengths and the proper shade of ivory for someone with my complexion.
At least he'd talked so much I hadn't been required to contribute more than the occasional nod or murmur of agreement. But the constant need to appear excited, to play the role of blushing bride-to-be, had left me drained. I hadn’t anticipated how exhausting it would be to keep up the pretense, and it would only get worse once the TV crew arrived. Then there would be more people to fool, more lies to maintain, more chances for someone to see through the carefully constructed charade.
I'd thought being trapped in that Kronock prison was the worst thing that could happen to me. But then I’d gotten out and discovered that I’d been abandoned. Discovering who’d beenbehind that decision had consumed me, sending me on the path of revenge. Being free hadn't made me feel free at all.
The rage toward those who had abandoned me burned constant and low in my chest, like a fire that never quite died. I wouldn't truly be free until they were held accountable, until they faced the consequences of writing off one of their own.
I closed my eyes and tried to calm the churning in my stomach, to find some center of peace in the storm of deception I'd created. The soft sounds of the distant waves and rustling palm fronds should have been soothing. Instead, they were a reminder that this paradise was as much a fraud as I was.
The door chimed and slid open, interrupting my brooding. I sat up quickly, expecting to see Deklyn returning from his evening with the station's officers.
"Dek, is that—" I started, then stopped short.
Deklyn stumbled through the doorway, but he wasn't alone. His brother Tivek was supporting most of his weight, half-carrying him into the suite.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
"What the hell?" I jumped to my feet, shocked to see the academy adjunct here and irritated that Deklyn was so drunk he could barely stand.
Tivek maneuvered his brother to the bed, and Deklyn sprawled across the white coverlet on his back, grinning with sloppy happiness.
"There's my beautiful fiancée," he slurred, his eyes unfocused but warm with affection that seemed entirely too genuine for comfort.
I bit back the urge to snap at him, reminding myself that we had an audience. Even drunk, our cover had to be maintained.
