Destiny's Fire (Kythan Guardians 1)

I bit down on my lip, frustrated. “This is what you want—to keep me hidden away forever, and never have a life,” I called out.

Mom reemerged, taking a few steps toward me. “Destiny, if your eyes were blue, I’d have no worries,” she said. “Heck, if your eyes were red, I’d probably worry less. I would’ve just taken us to the Narcolym haven and I’d have worn colored lenses.” She clasped her hips. “But your eyes give no clue as to which power you’ll possess.”

“If, after the change, I inherit Charge, like you and other Shythe…” I pleaded, my eyes searching hers.

Mom extended her arm, stretching her fingers. Blue light illuminated her hand, glowing and spreading up her forearm. In the center of her palm a small dome of Charge crackled. “If you can do this by the time the Academy year starts”—she paused, the current dancing over her hand as it arced into the air—“then you can go.”

She curled her fingers, extinguishing the Charge. She could no longer hold the current like she used to. I saw the strain on her face.

“Okay.” I smiled at her, weakly.

A mix of joy and fear enveloped me. I had no idea what my power was going to be—Flame or Charge. But Mom never said the one thing we both truly worried about. I was a failed experiment. What if I didn’t survive the change at all?

“Come on!” Lana shouted from her seat behind Nick on his levibike. “We’re going to the Chowhound.”

I held one finger up to her, telling her to give me a minute. Then I walked over to where my mom sat on the sofa. “I have my communicator…if you need me for anything.”

“Go. Have fun,” she said. “But, Destiny”—she eyed my neck—“tell Jace to take it easy.”

My mouth dropped open. I slapped my hand over the mark I thought I’d concealed better. “It’s not what you think. We didn’t—”

She waved her hand. “I noticed it last night. I was young once, too, you know.” She smiled. “But no amount of makeup is going to cover that.”

I opened my mouth to argue, then shut it. There was no use trying to convince her. And besides, was I going to tell her I got it during sparring? Nope. Better to let her think the alternative, as twisted as that logic was.

“All right, I’ll be home later,” I said hesitantly. After the conversation the night before, I wasn’t sure why she was being so lenient. Maybe she was giving me a last taste of freedom before locking me up and throwing away the key.

I waved over my shoulder to her and shut the door behind me before skipping down the walkway. I handed Jace his leather jerkin when I got to his levibike. He shrugged it on without a word.

“Why are we going to the Chowhound? We never go there,” I said as I climbed onto the seat behind him.

Lana answered. “Narcos have taken over Haven.” She eyed Jace closely. “It’s the only place we haven’t seen any all morning.”

“I can’t believe what’s going on,” Nick said, adjusting his goggles. “I think they’ve all lost their minds. Haven was built so they couldn’t get in. What the—”

“Nick,” Lana interrupted. “Not now.”

Jace’s form stiffened in front of me. His shoulders tensed as he gripped the brass handles. He gunned the throttle, and I clutched the holders. He still hadn’t said anything or looked at me once. I squeezed the brass tighter as we rocketed down the roadway.

As we passed clothing shops, bakeries, and other storefronts, I glimpsed Narcos riding the autowalks, buying flowers, shopping—doing normal things the citizens of Haven Falls did every day. When Narcos noticed us, Jace stared them down. I wrapped my arms around him, securing myself as he drove a bit too recklessly, but also wanting to prevent him from jumping off the levibike. Every time we stopped at a sign, I felt him tense.

We pulled into the Chowhound, and I scanned the parking lot. There was no sign of the Narcos. Jace lowered the kickstand and dropped the levibike. I slid off the seat, the steaming tailpipe grazing my calf on the way down.

“Damn!” I hopped one-legged, bringing my injured leg up to check out the damage.

Jace rushed up beside me. “What’s wrong?”

“Burn, I think.” I angled my leg to see it better. “I’ll be okay.”

Jace grasped my waist and hoisted me onto the seat. “Let me see.”

I was wearing my mid-calf jodhpurs, and the pipe had scraped my skin right below the hem. Jace pushed my pant leg up farth

er, his fingers running alongside the burn. As he inspected, he gently blew over the inflamed area. My skin prickled as his breath cooled the pulsing heat.

“It’s not too bad,” he said, tugging my pant leg back down. “I’ll get some ice for it in the diner.”

My mouth felt dry. I swallowed hard, trying to clear my throat. “Thanks,” I choked out, my voice raspy. “But I think it’ll be okay. I’m fine.” Our eyes met, and I attempted a smile—to reassure him—but he quickly turned away and stalked off toward the Chowhound doors.