Chapter 17

17

The scent of seawater came first, reminding her of the coastline of Washington. Fuck, it was all a dream.

The chill in her bones came next. This is definitely a hospital. I've been admitted.

Third was the tingle of her body, a low hum of warmth flowing through her blood like electricity buzzing through a live wire. What is that?

Vega's eyes shot open, and she darted into a seated position, heart pattering inside her chest loud enough to drown out the hum inside her body. A flickering light glowed in the corner, brightening the room enough to see every square inch.

One bare foot touched the floor, the other following as she moved slowly, trying not to make too much noise. Her muscles complained with the memories of the redwoods.

Chills ran down Vega's back, not because she felt fear, but because she was fucking cold. Where the hell did I end up? The walls were made of steel, the dark color of gunmetal casting a blue hue throughout the small space.

The last memory she had was of the man with the golden eyes, his arms wrapped around her neck until another vision—memory—embraced her.

Shit, shit! Did they take me?

A thin blanket lay on the bed. The scent of moss mixed with the deep smell of salt water surrounding her as she wrapped it around her shoulders.

In the corner, there was a small wooden desk with papers scattered across—a letter opener stuck out from under a pile of envelopes. The perfect weapon.

She could hear voices coming and going, passing by the door. Vega held the letter opener between her fingers and clutched to her chest. She reached for the door handle with her free hand, but as she pulled, someone from the other side pushed. The person crashed into her with such mass, Vega would have fallen back if they didn't reach out to steady her.

She squeaked, slashing out with the puny letter opener.

"Vega!" a male's voice cried, but she had no time to see much of the man before she was wrapped into a hug so tight it forced her muscles to relax and drop her makeshift weapon.

The smell of moss filled her nose again. "You're squishing me."

The man laughed, pulling back to hold her at arm's length while his eyes roamed over her body. "Sorry," he said. "What's that?" he asked, bending down to pick up the paperknife. "Really?" He held it up between them. "Who are you going to fight off with that?"

Vega's gaze met his green eyes—the color of a forest after a summer's rain. His face lit up in a charming smile. "You're Khort." It wasn't a question. Vega knew. She'd seen him in dreams, but his name had never been revealed like the others. She'd gotten to know him through what little Arlet would tell her.

"The one and only," he hummed.

Arlet got her back.

Whatever happened after Vega was knocked out, she'd probably never know, but what she did know was that Arlet made it… right? Arlet had to make it.

As if Khort could read her thoughts, he chuckled. "Arlet's okay."

Vega squished her brows together, puzzled, but relief flooded her chest.

"No, before you ask. I don't read minds. I just knew you'd ask if she was okay once you realized where you were."

Khort's stubble was more than a five o'clock shadow but not nearly a full beard like she'd been picturing. His hair was probably shoulder length if it were down, but he had a low, messy bun at the back of his head. His face had sharp edges and gorgeous angles, a sprinkle of freckles lining the bridge of his nose and the tips of his cheeks.

In this realm and any other, he would be considered devastatingly handsome.

"I know where we are… but, like, where are we?" Vega asked, her arms still covered in the blanket she'd stolen off the bed.

"About a mile under the Sea of Ros at the base of the rebel headquarters. Welcome to Castra." His response was so nonchalant that Vega wasn't sure she'd heard him right.

"A mile underwater?" Vega swallowed her fear. The dread of imploding was suddenly higher on her list than it'd ever been.

Khort shrugged. "It's home for now."

Home.

I'm home.

"I can show you around if you want," Khort said, stepping around Vega to get inside the room. He moved around with an ease that confirmed this was his room and not her own. Do I even have a room here?

The unknowns kept growing.

Vega took in the way his body shifted under the light. His clothing was casual, his loose cotton-white shirt stained at the edge with what looked to be oil .

Vega didn't know Khort, at least not this version of her.

"I'd like that. Can I see Arlet too?" Vega wanted to thank her and maybe give her a big hug—apologize for ever doubting her.

"Yeah, we can do that. She should be out of her meeting by the time we're done getting you some food and finishing up the tour." Khort came over with Vega's boots, a clean pair of socks stuffed inside. "Here, this'll help you warm up. You'll get used to the colder temps down here again soon."

"How long have I been here?" Vega asked, sitting back on the edge of the creaky bed while slipping into the beat-up boots she'd left Earth in.

"Almost four days," Khort replied, watching her from the other side of the room. Vega felt herself heat up under his soft gaze. He stared at her like he was smitten, so full of love Vega could physically feel it. She broke their gaze to tie her boots, needing to refocus her attention elsewhere.

"Shit," she muttered. "What have I missed?" Vega's mind wandered to the men, to Bridger , and worried if she was still being actively hunted.

"Nothing that you need to worry about just yet," Khort answered, reaching for a dark blue jacket on the back of a chair and handing it over to her. Vega didn't question its size and let the blanket fall to the bed, slipping into the large jacket.

"I don't like being kept in the dark for too long," she warned.

He met her words with a little laugh, his nose scrunching. "Oh, I know, but my biggest concern right now is getting you some food. I don't think talking to you about the things you can't remember will be of any help to us or you."

Vega agreed as her stomach rumbled. "Let me guess, fish is on the menu."

Khort nodded, strutting to the door with a sympathetic smile. "Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Your favorite."

Vega had never liked fish, but at this point, she would eat a horse if it meant she could fill her stomach with something other than Doritos and gas station burritos. With the promise of a full stomach, Vega shuffled off the bed and followed Khort out of the safety of his room.

The hallways were narrow, doors lining up and down the cramped quarters. People slipped in and out of the rooms, nodding hellos to Khort. Vega couldn't miss the way people stopped and stared at her—the shock on their faces and the murmurs now fluttering through the hall were unmistakable.

Vega locked eyes with a woman, her dull brown hair drenched in what she assumed was sweat. She'd been entering a room until her eyes met Vega's, stopping her in her tracks to gawk in surprise. Vega noticed the suit the woman wore. It was similar to that of Bridger and the other man from the redwoods. Skintight, the fabric thick against her skin.

As they passed, the woman bowed her head, looking up through her lashes at Vega.

"Why are people staring?" Vega asked, speeding up her stride to position herself beside Khort instead of following close behind.

The smile on his face made her insides knot. "Because you're the face of hope."

Her memories failed her, and she was unable to wrap her head around why anyone would see her as anything more than a complete screw-up. In every memory she had of this life, nothing gave her the conception she was some savior who could help rid this land of Marlena and her tyranny.

Vega looked down as they passed another group of onlookers, afraid to see the same look in their eyes that she saw in the first woman.

A hand reached out, fingers grazing hers. Vega glanced over, catching Khort reaching out to offer her what little strength he could. Her eyes flicked up to him, his gaze still forward as they walked through the maze-like halls .

"Head up. They need you more than you need you."

Vega listened, straightening her shoulders, looking ahead—forward. It was an act. She wanted to fall into herself, but she wasn't allowed to fall apart.

Do not break down now. The words she'd always told herself started to feel more like something someone else had once told her… but who?

She'd been seen as weak for far too long. By herself, by Chase, by the people around her who constantly watched her fail. It was only the life on Earth she could remember and what few memories she'd been allowed to see, but Vega knew there were people in this world who doubted her too.

Would Tolevarre offer her the strength she needed?

"It's Vega."

"She's back."

"When did they find her?"

"Vega."

Muttering words filled her head. Vega couldn't look at them and wouldn't dare connect to the hope they felt when they saw her.

How many times had this moment happened over the last fifty-five years? How many times had she let the people here down?

Every loss stacked upon them was because she couldn't defeat a sister she had almost no memories of. Every loss came back to Vega not being enough.

Not strong enough.

Not smart enough.

Not enough.

She didn't need her memories to know that she had never succeeded at anything that mattered.