Starfall

  Copyright © 2017 by Melissa Landers

  Cover design by Maria Elias

  Cover photographs © 2017 Shutterstock

  All rights reserved. Published by Hyperion, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Hyperion, 125 West End Avenue, New York, New York 10023.

  ISBN 978-1-4847-8509-6

  Visit www.hyperionteens.com

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Epigraph

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  About the Author

  Once you have tasted flight,

  you will walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward,

  for there you have been,

  and there you would return.

  —“I, Leonardo Da Vinci,” Saga of Western Man

  Light seemed sharper in space. The eyes tended to latch on to anything luminous, starved for a sense of direction in the thick black void. After the first year of living off world, Cassia noticed her sight had adapted to the sensory deprivation. All it had taken then was the glow of a distant star through her bedroom porthole to bring her boots into focus. Now, after her second year in residence on the SS Banshee, she moved through the ship like a cat at midnight, her retinas magnifying the barest hint of a spark, so she rarely needed to turn on the overhead bulbs.

  She couldn’t decide if that was a good thing.

  When she’d left her home world of Eturia—or fled, really—it had been with a heavy heart and the intention of returning before the next gathering moon. But that was twenty-six moons ago. She’d counted. Each passing cycle was starting to feel like a defeat, and some days she wondered if she’d ever see home again.

  She rotated on her narrow bunk to face one of the pictures taped to the wall, a panorama of her royal ancestral lands unfolding in great, rolling fields that gave way to an even greater lake of vivid indigo. This photograph was one of three items she’d managed to grab during her hasty escape. Since then, she’d spent so much time gazing at it she could trace a fingertip along the lavender-covered hills with her eyes closed. Sometimes in the twilight moments between dreams and awareness, she swore she heard the rustling of leaves on the breeze and smelled the scent of freshly clipped grass. But then she’d blink and find the spell broken, her senses jarred by the throaty snores of her roommate, Kane, and the musky smell of his antiperspirant.

  He was snoring now.

  She kicked the bunk above her, and he grumbled a curse before shifting on the mattress and dangling one brown arm over the edge. The sight of his blond-dusted knuckles made her smile. Kane was the second “item” she’d brought from home—her childhood best friend since the day he’d rescued her from a goose attack by sacrificing his cookie to the bird, buying her time to get away. Kane talked too much, chewed with his mouth open, and had a tendency to use her laser blade without permission. But without him, these years in exile would’ve been darker than the south side of hell.

  So for that, she put up with him.

  “Stop it,” he grumbled, his voice rough from sleep.

  “Stop what?”

  “Pining. You’re staring at the picture again.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  He didn’t bother calling her a liar. “You’re thinking about the good times because we’ve been away for so long. There’s a reason we left, Cassy.”

  As if she could forget.

  She touched the gold disk tucked beneath her shirt. That was the third item to make the journey from home, a royal medallion identifying her as PRINCESS CASSIA ADELAIDE ROSE. But even when she removed the necklace and hid it beneath her mattress, she felt its ghost weight tugging at her shoulders—a constant reminder that she’d abandoned her people during a time of war. All of Eturia hated her. The bounty on her head made that clear.

  “It’s not your fault,” Kane said.

  She drew a breath and ran a finger around the edge of her medallion. Logically, she knew he was right. Her marriage to the prince of a rival house would have prevented the war, but she’d discovered the man’s true intent was to murder her family and rule both kingdoms. Her parents hadn’t believed her when she’d told them. That much was her fault. If she hadn’t fought so hard against the match and thrown so many tantrums, maybe her word would have counted for something.

  “They wouldn’t have listened,” Kane added.

  “Get out of my head.”

  “But it’s so breezy and vacant in there. Plenty of room to stretch out.”

  Biting back a laugh, she punched his cot.

  “Come on.” He swung his bare feet into view. “We’re going planet-side today. All you need’s a little sun to set you right.”

  At the reminder, she perked up. Real sunlight was such a rare treat that cargo drops seemed more like a vacation than work. And if there was any wiggle room in the schedule, the captain might award them a day of shore leave. “What are we delivering?”

  “The grain we picked up on Cargill.”

  She wrinkled her nose. Stacking crates of grain always left her covered in dust, not to mention whatever eight-legged critters hitched a ride from the last colony. But the prospect of fresh air, firm soil, and warm rays set her legs in motion.

  A few minutes later, she was in the washroom for her daily sponge bath, as showers were limited to once a week. She’d just finished pulling on her canvas pants and T-shirt when a flash of auburn fur caught her eye, and she turned to find Acorn, the ship mascot, perched above the doorframe, preparing to launch.

  There was a time when Cassia would have ducked and run, but now she cupped both hands and extended them toward the sugar glider. Acorn spread her winglike arms and coasted into Cassia’s palms, then scurried up to one shoulder and began seeking her favorite pocket. She found it, the one above Cassia’s heart, and burrowed in headfirst.

  “At least you love me, girl,” Cassia said with a smile. “Though you don’t really have a choice, do you?”

  Acorn’s breed was highly social, to the point where she could die without enough affection. She’d bonded with the previous captain, and after his death, adopted Cassia as a foster mother. Acorn’s tiny claws still sent the wrong kind of shivers down Cassia’s spine, especially when they were tangled in her hair, but secretly she liked feeling needed.

  After handing Acorn a dried lentil, Cassia faced the washroom mirror and unfastened her ponytail. The instant it came loose, she narrowed her eyes at the blond waves brushing her shoulders. She still didn’t recognize herself without her waist-long dreadlocks. If she was lucky, the bounty hunters wouldn’t recognize her, either.

  Kane strolled in, rubbing a hand over his own newly shorn head. The act lifted the hem of his shirt high enough to reveal a trail of gol
den curls encircling his navel and disappearing below the waistband of his pants. Against her will, Cassia’s pulse hitched. She and Kane looked so much alike with their tawny skin and light hair that people often mistook them for siblings, but her body had no such misgivings.

  Neither did Kane’s. He kept making that clear.

  He moved behind her and laced his long fingers through her hair, holding her gaze in the mirror while his lips curved in an appreciative smile. “I like it,” he said, low and smooth. “I couldn’t do this before.”

  Chills broke out along her backbone—the right kind of shivers. But she shut down the sensation and pulled her waves into a sloppy ponytail before things went too far again. She couldn’t afford any more slipups. It wasn’t fair to either of them.

  Kane’s grin fell in a way that said she’d hurt his feelings.

  “Breakfast will be late,” she reminded him, glancing at her boots because the expression on his face made her insides ache. “I’ll get started while you wash up.”

  Then she backed into the hallway and did what she did best.

  She left.

  Kane scrubbed himself from head to toe and pulled on his shirt one slow sleeve at a time. He combed his hair until his scalp prickled. Twice, he shaved his face with Cassia’s laser blade before checking in the mirror for any spots he’d missed. When he couldn’t stall any longer, he set off for the galley and hoped she had finished her breakfast and gone somewhere else. Anywhere else, as long as he wouldn’t have to spend another awkward meal sitting across from her at the table while the rest of the crew cast sideways glances at them and asked what was the matter.

  She’d locked him in the friend zone again. That was the matter.

  The instant he crossed the threshold, he scanned the galley and took in three faces, none of which belonged to Cassia. There was no sign of her at all, not even of the jacket she usually left balled up on the counter when working over the burners made her hot. The only proof she’d been there was a vat of porridge left simmering on the stove. He released a breath as the muscles in his shoulders unclenched. He was safe, at least until the next time their paths crossed on this sardine can of a ship.

  “Morning,” Renny greeted from above the rim of his coffee cup. Steam fogged his glasses, and he scrubbed the lenses with a cloth napkin before scrutinizing Kane more closely. “You feeling okay?” he added, probably worried about transport madness. “Spending enough time under the lamps?”

  “I’m fine, Cap’n,” Kane said. It felt strange calling the former first mate captain, and he wondered if he’d ever get used to it. Renny was a good man and they all loved him, but nobody could replace Phineas Rossi, the crotchety old half-mechanical battle-ax who’d taken them in and made them a family.

  “Catch a few watts after breakfast. And soak up all the rays you can when we stop on Vega.” Renny nodded at him. “You’ve lost some pep in your step. I don’t like it.”

  Kane didn’t like it, either. He kept his thoughts to himself, but he wondered if a change in sleeping arrangements might help. It wasn’t easy bunking three feet above Cassia every night, listening to the little moany noises she made in her dreams and ignoring the floral scent wafting up from her perfume microbes. That was enough to shake any guy’s screws loose.

  With only three cabins on the Banshee, that left him the option of bunking with Renny, or asking Solara to switch rooms. Kane shifted a glance at Solara, who sat on Doran’s lap with both arms locked around his neck while he used the end of her long chestnut braid to tickle her nose. Those two were permanently joined at the hips. No way they’d give up their private quarters.

  “Hey, Cap’n,” Kane said. “Mind if I bunk with you?”

  Renny didn’t ask why, one of the many reasons why Kane liked him. “Suit yourself. But I snore.”

  “Me too.” At least that was what Cassia claimed.

  “It’s a deal, then.” Renny held up an index finger and dug inside his coat pocket, then produced Kane’s watch. It was an antique, passed down from Kane’s great-great-grandfather, and the only thing his dad had ever given him besides a tarnished last name. Renny handed it over with an apology in his eyes. “You might want to lock this up. I can’t seem to stay away from it.”

  Kane fastened the metal band around his wrist. “As long as you don’t lift the key to my lockbox.” Renny had done that before. The man had compulsive sticky fingers, a condition that’d forced him to flee Earth after he’d stolen from the mafia.

  Renny grinned. “I make no promises.”

  Doran tore his gaze away from Solara long enough to ask, “What’s our ETA?” But he kept one hand on her thigh and used the other to rub her back with all the dedication of a guy trying to summon a genie from its bottle.

  Kane made a face, but the pair didn’t notice.

  “About noon, Vega time,” Renny said. “We’ll dock there overnight, so feel free to use the shuttle if you want to meet up with your brother.”

  That got Kane’s attention. Doran’s twin brother had invented a super-fuel called Infinium, which was quickly becoming the most valuable substance in the galaxy. The guy was loaded, and he lived below the surface of a nearby planet in a swanky compound that included a beach simulator. “I want in on that.”

  “But the shuttle only holds two people,” Solara pointed out.

  “Then I’ll curl up in the rear hatch.”

  “For a two-hour ride?”

  “For as long as it takes.”

  “You must really want out of here.”

  She had no idea how much.

  Renny excused himself to check the autopilot, and Solara leaned forward, resting both elbows on the table. “What’s up with you and Cassia?”

  Shrugging, Kane told a deceptively simple truth. “Nothing.”

  “I noticed you two don’t fight anymore.”

  “And that’s bad because…?”

  “Because bickering is what you guys do,” Doran cut in. “Some people write sonnets. Other people draw hearts. You two yell at each other. It’s your twisted love language.”

  The use of the L word didn’t escape Kane’s notice. It hit home like a fist to the chest, forcing him to face the stove to hide whatever emotions were pulling down the corners of his mouth. It was no secret he’d loved Cassia since he was too young to tie his boots—enough to drop everything and follow her out the door two years ago. And she wanted him, too. The way her skin flushed every time he touched her made that obvious. But wanting and loving were two different things. The real desire of Cassia’s heart was to go home and rule their colony, which she couldn’t do with the bastard son of a merchant by her side.

  Kane stirred a pinch of cinnamon into the porridge. “We’re friends. That’s all.”

  His tone warned them to drop it, and they did. But when breakfast was over and the crew left him to clean up the mess, their words replayed inside his head. They were right. The dynamic on the ship had shifted, and a knot was building inside his chest, pulling a little tighter each day. Something had to change before that knot snapped him in half.

  He decided to forgo the sunlamps and returned to his room, where he stuffed everything he owned inside a spare storage box. He’d just grabbed his pillow when Cassia walked in and stopped short at the doorway.

  Her honey-brown eyes flew wide, darting from the box in his hands to his now empty bunk. “What’s going on?”

  Kane knew he hadn’t done anything wrong, but that didn’t stop his stomach from sinking. The sensation reminded him of the time his mother had caught him hiding a broken figurine under the sofa. He fixed his gaze over Cassia’s head and into the hallway. “The room’s all yours. Now you don’t have to listen to me snore.”

  “But where are you—”

  “With Renny. I think it’s best.”

  For a long time she said nothing. Then her mouth pressed into a hard line while her eyes flashed with anger. “Perfect,” she spat, reaching behind her neck to unfasten the Eturian prayer necklace he’d
bought for her—the one that had cost him two months’ wages. She stood on tiptoe and shoved the necklace into the box, right beside his pillow. “Don’t forget this.”

  Before he could tell her to keep it, she spun on her heel and took off toward the common room. The clang of her boots on the stairs soon followed.

  Ignoring the heaviness in his gut, Kane left his old room and kicked the door shut. His brain understood this distance was long overdue. Now he needed the rest of him to get the message.

  Even if Cassia hadn’t known Vega was a brand-new terraform, the silence would have clued her in. Planets in solar systems like these were settled by the poor—refugees from the overcrowded slums of Earth who wanted a fresh start and plenty of room to grow their families. Not the kind of people who could afford to import sparrows or bullfrogs. Settlers brought only useful stock with them. If you couldn’t ride it, wear it, or eat it, you weren’t likely to find it in the outer realm.

  Shielding her eyes from the sun, she stood at the base of the ship’s cargo ramp and gazed past a verdant field to the budding town in the distance, where a dozen prefabricated buildings lined a single paved street. The saltbox structures looked the same on all these fringe settlements, like they’d been ordered from a clearance catalog.

  They probably had been.

  “Let’s get on with it,” Kane called from inside the cargo hold. “The sooner we make this delivery, the sooner we can go.”

  “Fine by me,” Doran agreed.

  Cassia’s jaw tightened. She’d heard about the trip to Gage Spaulding’s underground mansion, but no one had bothered to invite her. Not that she cared. She didn’t want to spend her shore leave with Kane anyway.

  Still facing away, she told them, “Let’s make a deal. You guys stack the crates, and then you can leave. I’ll see the pallet to town and collect payment.”

  “But don’t you need the shuttle for that?” Solara asked.

  “No. The warehouse is sending a hovercraft to tow everything in. I’ll ride with them and walk back here when I’m done. It’s not far.”

  There was a long beat of silence. Then Kane said, “I don’t know. Maybe we should stay together.”