Sea of Stars by Amy A. Bartol Read Free Book Online Page A

never condemn him in that way to avoid pain. I won’t be euthanized like some unwanted pet at the pound.”
    He looks at me again and shrugs as only a powerful man can. Reaching for the kafcan pot again, he pours out another cup of it for himself. “Either way you die. A part of me is delighted that you’d choose pain. Nothing will bring me more pleasure than to see you die horribly: a fitting end for an Alameeda priestess.”
    My eyes fix his. He gives me a checkmate smile, and then he takes a sip of his kafcan, swallowing it like it’s the best he’s had in his life. I watch him savor it.
    “I changed my mind. I do have something to confess,” I murmur.
    He’s amused. “Ah, so you aren’t as tough as you wanted me to believe. The threat of pain already has you agreeing to confess to the murder of the defense minister?”
    “Umm . . . no. I’ll confess to the poisoning of the defense minister.”
    “That won’t work. The defense minister’s throat was cut.”
    “No, it wasn’t. He was poisoned, and if he doesn’t get an antidote for znou axicote,” I reply, opening the lid of the kafcan pot so that he can see the znou petals floating on the surface of it, “he’ll be dead by the end of the rotation.”
    Minister Telek’s eyes snap open wide as he rises to his feet, the kafcan cup slipping from his hand to shatter on the floor in front of his Regent-souvenir. He puts his fingers in his mouth, gagging himself so that he vomits. Wiping his wrist over his mouth, it leaves a blood trail on his sleeve. He turns away from me and stumbles toward his desk on the other side of the room.
    I rise from the enormous chair and follow him on shaky legs. “I was never interested in botany when I lived in Chicago,” I explain conversationally as I trail him. “There was never any need for it. But here, it seems like a useful thing to know, don’t you think?”
    Minister Telek bumps into the table in the center of the room, knocking the vase of znous off it. The flowers scatter as the vase splinters into a thousand pieces. I step on the flowers as we move across the room. “I found it interesting that most of those who had turbine worms drill into them didn’t die from that—they died from the poison the worms ingested after eating the petals of the flower. I only steeped two petals into your kafcan—I had six. They’ll want to know that when they come for you. I don’t think two will be enough to kill you, but you’ll begin to feel the poison eating through your stomach soon. There are several cures available if they act fast: Abersuctonal, Hesterfastok, or Lamb’s Bottom—I like the sound of that one, Lamb’s Bottom—it just sounds sweet. You should ask for Lamb’s Bottom. But they’re probably still going to have to repair part of your bowel; it’s a very caustic poison. And painful.” I fake a cringe. “Ooph, it’s supposed to be one of the worst.”
    He makes it to his desk, leaning on it heavily. “Console on,” he moans. “Geteron, I need you!” He collapses into his chair, unbuttoning his collar as he pants and writhes.
    “Don’t look so shocked,” I say, sitting on the corner of his desk as I study him. I hold my hands in my lap so that he can’t see how they tremble in fear. “I’m my father’s daughter. I, too, have a mind for defensive strategy. But I’m nothing like you. I’m not a coldblooded murderer. This is your only warning, Minister: Don’t mess with me. And if you try to hurt Trey, I’ll kill you.”
    The overup’s doors open and several uniformed soldiers enter the room with weapons drawn. I don’t move as they swarm in around us. A couple of soldiers haul me off the edge of the desk and restrain me. As they do, I murmur, “Think about what I said. You need me to bring the future back to you.”

C HAPTER 3
    B EYOND THESE WALLS
    T he Brigadet next to me in the overup has a brand new matte black harbinger in his hand. Judging by the way he’s holding the