Hundreds of years ago, Earth fell apart, leaving only the utmost privileged to start anew on the already-inhabited planet Selino. But internal conflict may drive this second world to crumble as well... unless eight teenagers can find the magical, my...
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As she, Cynth, and Damon disembarked the human ship and made their way through the rolling hills of Altno — Damon glowering unflinchingly at Cynth, and Cynth staring stubbornly back at Damon — Will, the new one-stuck-in-the-middle, had a sudden appreciation for Cybele Valloma.
Which was a thought she immediately regretted having. Because something in her just hurt at the girl's name on her mind, even as she walked with the others through tree-dotted meadows and tried to ignore their clear mutual hatred. The idea of Cybele alone made her heart twist violently, anxiety kicking in overtime and questions crowding her insides. Who had she even been working for? Where was she now?
Why had she left her?
Will took a deep breath of clean cool air, slowly threading her fingers through the hair that covered her gills and trying to remain calm. This wasn't going to help anything. Cybele had never been trustworthy, and now that was Cynth's problem just as much as hers. Which should have felt good.
(And if she had kissed Will and not Cynth, who was to say that was for any reason more than convenience? If the situation were reversed maybe she would have kissed Cynth to save her too. Just the thought made Will's stomach clench, but she had no idea what the human would have done. She didn't. Know. Her.)
"Finally!" Cynth muttered, and Will blinked out of her thoughts. They'd only been walking a few minutes, but this was the first building they'd seen outside of the one or two private residences dotting the somewhat-paved road. It seemed to be some sort of business-front — small and wooden, yellow paint peeling, with brochures, posters, and advertisements stacked on top of one another and lining the large glass window in front. ALMOONS FESTIVAL, the biggest one said, with a design of moons on its corner. Around it, Will spotted an advertisement for the Regional Altno Faber Youth Choir, a phone list of local patria-owned businesses, and — this made her eyebrows shoot up, then chance a peek at Damon — a sign-up sheet for the Altno Vocares Organization. The Voc. Right there in plain sight. Above all of it, painted in crumbling letters at the top of the glass, read ALTNO TOURIST CENTER.
As if reading Will's thoughts, Cynth drawled, "Very welcoming."
Will squeezed her nails into her palms, the simple, sickening sound of Cynth's voice sending her throat thickening and heart rate quickening. "So, that's a we're-not-going-in?"
Cynth tilted her head to one side in mock thoughtfulness, before shooting Will the dirtiest of unnecessary glares. Her face looked even more severe than usual, the heavy makeup and dark hood she'd adopted in an identity-obscuring attempt lending her something of an unearned maturity. "Of course we're going in, Willa. Information is information." She glanced back at the tourist center, lip physically curling. "Even hibri information."
Cynth Leeyung always said the word hibri like it was something foul in her mouth, rancid and rotten and repulsive. She spat the word like a curse, like a slash across the heart, like it left behind a carcass. She said it like she knew you were listening and couldn't care less. She said it like there was a maid behind her with a broom and a dustpan, so willing to clean up whatever mess she made that she didn't even try to be perfunctorily polite. She said it like her whole heart and soul had been poured into nothing but this one, unrelenting hatred. She said it like she meant it.
