"No, you don't," he says, kicking aside a pile of laundry. "Have you seen my boot?"
"Yes, I do."
"Where?" He looks up at me.
I clench my jaw. "I want to go back to MY ship," I enunciate.
"Oh." He pauses. "No, you don't."
"Yes, I do."
"No, you don't."
"Yes, I do."
"No, you don't."
I resist the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. "Are we really doing this?"
"You wanna do something else?" He gives me an utterly roguish smile.
"You mean like push you off a bridge?" I retort.
Adiron laughs as if I've said the funniest thing ever. He shakes his head, grinning at me. "You wouldn't do that. Not when I'm about to take you back to your friends."
I pause at that. "Are you really?"
"Of course. You're not a prisoner." He digs out his boot with a look of triumph. "Let me finish putting these on and I'll show you around."
20
JADE
As we walk through the ship, Adiron talks. And talks. And talks. If he's trying to keep anything secret, he's doing a poor job of it, because he fills me in on everything that's been going on while I was asleep. I'm not surprised to learn that Ruth and Alice didn't break, and that Helen did. She's never been apart from us, and I'm guessing she panicked. Adiron says she cried the entire time and his brother feels guilty, and all I can think is that I'm glad. I hope he feels guilty as shit for bullying her.
I also learn I didn't blab as much as I thought, but I did talk about the human cargo—the others waiting in the huge bay of stasis pods. Adiron says that Straik freaked out and wants to see the “cargo” for himself, but he can't get access. Someone's changed something in the Buoyant Star's computer systems and it won't allow him in. That's a surprise to me, because we've been able to come and go as we please…but in a way, it makes sense. The Star thinks we're cargo, too.
So this “Lord Straik” and the brothers need us to get their hands on the other humans. That buys at least one of us some safety, possibly all of us if we play our cards right. I tuck this away mentally. I need to talk to the others so we can come up with a plan, make sure we're all on the same page. I don't want these corsairs killing three of us in order to force the fourth one to act. Unfortunately, I also think this means we can't tell Helen anything. She's too innocent and she'd share our plans in a heartbeat if someone even looked our way threateningly.
Meanwhile, Adiron just keeps talking. I'm only half listening—I need the information he's spilling, but I also need to figure out a plan, and my head throbs and I'm also trying to simultaneously map out our surroundings in my mind. It's a lot to take in. "Mathiras is my oldest brother," he's saying as we turn down another hall. "I guess if we have a leader, it's him, though Kaspar and I don't listen to him all that well." He shoots me another cocky grin. "Kaspar's my other brother. I'm the youngest and the most charming."
I absently snort at that, noticing that a couple of the dark-uniformed troops are heading down the hall in our direction. I stiffen, holding my breath, but they only stroll past us, shooting me a curious glance. Whew. I exhale and then glance over at Adiron. He's got a thoughtful look on his face that's edging toward a frown. "What's wrong?" I ask.
"They were looking at your legs. I don't like that." The frown deepens as he studies my clothing. I'm still in my slave girl rags, with his shirt covering me. It's not like I've been offered a change of clothing.
I cross my arms over my chest, a little worried. "Am I in danger from them?" A horrible thought occurs to me—I've been dealing with Adiron but…what if he and his brothers aren't interested in claiming us for themselves and hand us over to the crew? What if we have to service all twenty-odd alien men on this ship? That's a nightmare.
"From a'ani? No. Not at all." Adiron continues to look thoughtful. "I just didn't like it. We should get you some clothes."
"Is that what they're called? A'ani? Is that what Helen is?"
"No, she's a qura'aki," Adiron points out. He turns and steers me down a different hall, apparently changing his mind. "She is a clone of an old race that no longer exists. Every now and then, a female clone turns up on the pleasure markets and is sold for an obscene number of credits. A'ani are another cloned race, but they are quite common." At my blank look, he adds, "They are marked with the red-hued skin so all may know they are cloned."