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  Josmere was nowhere in sight, for which Layela was grateful. Although she doubted they would be interested in a petty thief this late in the day, she preferred not to find out.

  Carefully, Layela reached into the drawer, pushing aside some papers to reach her digital passport. She recognized it by touch, its smooth cover cool and reassuring.

  Yoma had insisted for a long time that they simply acquire fake passports, which would cost them less and be easier. But Layela had argued otherwise. She wanted to begin anew, and the passport was the first step to gaining that freedom. A nice, simple, legal step.

  The government official snatched the passport from her hands, and Layela counted her blessings that she had insisted on the legal proceedings. The man was becoming more annoying with each passing second, like a slowly inflaming bug bite. He made a raw sound in his throat.

  “I’m afraid we’ll have to confiscate this,” the man said, his mouth speaking the words regretfully where his eyes only spoke boredom. Another assignment completed, another day over.

  “Why?” Layela asked, stunned.

  “You are forbidden from leaving this planet,” the man continued, ignoring her question, jingling his keys again. “You are forbidden from communicating with anyone off-planet, and you are forbidden from doing business on Collar until further notice.”

  “What do you mean?” Layela asked, her voice rising, her face and neck flushed with anger. They couldn’t do this! What right did they have to do this? And why?

  Yoma. The word sliced through every other thought, her anger growing deeper. Her sister had done something. Something stupid and illegal, and they had traced her back to Layela. If her sister wanted to throw everything away, fine, but couldn’t she keep Layela out of it for once?

  “I mean that you are basically under arrest, simply not in jail.” He prolonged each syllable, as though he spoke to a child. He even stopped jingling his keys, to ensure she could hear him perfectly. “At least, not until we receive proper reason to put you there.”

  “But I’ve done nothing wrong!” Layela’s voice resonated in the shop. “If I can’t open for business, how am I supposed to pay for it? I need to sell to survive!”

  The man simply shrugged, and turned toward the door.

  “Wait!” she called after them, walking towards the men. The soldiers blocked her, their hands travelling towards their guns.

  She raised her hands to appease them.

  “I just need to know why you’re doing this,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm. “I need to know how I can help you clear this up faster.”

  The government official didn’t even stop as he called over his shoulder. “You can’t.”

  Backing away, the soldiers exited. As the door closed she could hear the jingling of keys.

  Stunned, she didn’t even notice when Josmere came out of the shadows and stood beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

  “I’m so sorry, Layl,” Josmere said, but Layela barely heard her. She wondered what her sister had done now, and how much it would cost her.

  CHAPTER 2

  Layela fidgeted with the piece of paper. She set it down, grabbed a watering can and walked toward the ferns. The plants were a perfect burgundy and perky, but Layela poured water in their earth regardless. She looked back at the piece of paper. Maybe there was another way.

  Water splashed on her foot and she backed up, sighing. I needed to clean the floors anyway.

  She set the watering can on the counter, resisted the urge to stay there, and headed to the back, running a hand over Mama Knot’s giant leaves and inventorying the plants in her head. What should she order next? Did it even matter now? With a firm hand she grabbed the mop and walked back into the store, cleaning her floors carefully. She considered waxing them too, but she knew she was stalling. Instead, she stopped in front of the counter, leaning the mop against it.

  The tremble in her fingers threatened to rip the paper when she picked it up, and she forced her hands to steady. She set it down on the counter again, grabbed for the watering can and turned back towards the ferns, only remembering that she had already watered them when she saw the droplets still trickling onto the floor. She set the can down and grabbed the shears instead. Only the Growall plants had the constitution and speedy growth to withstand her current care. She hacked at them, feeling the page tug at her heart.

  We always take care of each other, Layl.

  She reached deep within the plant and hacked, her cutters sticky with sap, leaves and orange flowers littering the floor around her feet. Even the Growall couldn’t take much more of this abuse. Layela lowered the cutters to the floor and sat in the middle of the orange blooms, their musky scent filling her nostrils.

  Picking one up, she outlined each petal with her fingers, imagining it withering in time. Like so many other things.

  “We do always take care of each other, Yoma,” she whispered, anger fading from her as she spoke the words, a mantra she’d repeated since early childhood.

  She felt tears well in her eyes as she thought of all the care and dreams that had gone into the forging of Sunrise Flowers, but she thought of her sister, who might be in trouble and in need of help, and the tears were gone as quickly as they had come. Yoma was all she had, really — and Josmere too, though the Berganda had chosen not to follow them in their flower shop endeavour. And this way she knew Sunrise Flowers would still be here, waiting for her and Yoma’s safe return, harbouring their hopes in its old walls and radiant blooms. It’s only temporary, she thought, her feet cold as she donned her old boots. Just temporary.

  “I couldn’t find out anything,” Josmere called from the back as she entered through the storage area. “No word on Yoma, no word on why you’re such a hot item right now, nothing at all. But I’m guessing she’s not on Collar anymore. No one could hide that well from me!”

  Josmere rounded the corner and stopped. Layela knew how she must look, sitting on the floor and surrounded by her chopped masterpiece. Raising an eyebrow, the Berganda reached behind the counter and grabbed the broom.

  “Don’t take it personally,” Layela said as she stood up, “but I do like taking my frustrations out on plant life.”

  Josmere looked at her in shock before her face broke out in a grin. Although Josmere still seemed to be hiding something from her, Layela had to admit that the familiar face brought her great comfort. Especially considering what she had to do next.

  She forced her legs to take her to the counter. Josmere recounted some of her searches as Layela swept; all of them led nowhere, not even to more questions. The Berganda’s voice rose and fell again as her tale took her back through her frustrations.

  “I did get you the stuff you asked for,” Josmere said. She threw out the rest of the cuttings and, after wiping her hands on her pants, handed Layela a small envelope.

  Layela looked inside: a new passport with a fake identity, and identification cards to match. Everything she needed to get off the planet.

  “Thanks Josmere,” Layela whispered, pocketing the envelope and picking up the document she had fidgeted with most of the day.

  Without a word she handed it to Josmere, who took it without question. The moment it was out of her grasp, Layela wished she could hold it again and fidget with it until it was well worn and illegible.

  “Oh Layl, I can’t!” the Berganda whispered, her eyes widening as she read. The document was a clear contract, stating that she, Layela Delamores, signed over ownership of Sunrise Flowers to Josmere Berganda. Effective immediately.

  “Yes you can, and you have to. It’s only temporary.”

  “But I don’t want it. This is yours, not mine,” Josmere said, pushing the piece of paper back towards Layela.

  Layela rooted her arms by her side, her fingers forming fists lest they reach out for the document before she could stop them.

  “Josmere, I know it isn’t like you to stay so sedentary, but I need you to do this.” Her voice rose with the need
to be understood; to convince Josmere, not to mention herself, that this was indeed the right course of action. “I can’t do business right now, and if I don’t make money, then I can’t keep this place up. I have no savings left. Everything is tied into this place.”

  Josmere’s eyes held hers. The small creases around them were the only sign of aging the Berganda would ever show.

  “Bergandas can’t own businesses in Solarian space,” she whispered, as though afraid her refusal might shatter Layela like fine glass.

  “If they wear regulation gloves at all times on Collar, they can.” Layela gave her a thin smile. “It was one of the many reasons we chose this planet, should you ever decide to join us.”

  Josmere opened her mouth as though to say something, but then stopped and lowered her eyes. In the throes of her own grief over her flower shop, Layela didn’t care to pursue the matter further. It was time to go.

  “Besides,” Layela added with a forced laugh. “You’re a plant, so this should be easy for you, right? Just make sure not to sell yourself.”

  Josmere’s frown lessened, and she looked down at the paper again.

  “You’re going after Yoma?” she asked without looking up.

  “Yes. I need to know what’s happening so I know how to fix it. I’m guessing Yoma has the answers I need.” The last words were spoken with more bitterness than she had intended.

  Josmere shook her head again, green hair tossing like leaves caught in the wind.

  “Josmere,” Layela said, her voice becoming more forceful. As she grabbed the Berganda’s arm, the familiar tingle of Josmere’s powers coursed through her fingers.

  Josmere looked up, and Layela was surprised to see uncertainty in the green eyes. It was not a quality she had ever witnessed in the Berganda.

  “You’re the only one I trust to do this.” Layela whispered, holding Josmere’s gaze. For all of her faults and secrets, the Berganda had always been loyal to the twins, even when it would have proven wiser to stay away.

  “I don’t like this,” Josmere said. “But I’ll do it. Where will you begin your search?”

  “I don’t know.” She studied the Berganda closely. “Do you have any ideas?”

  Anger flashed across Josmere’s face for a second. “If I did, don’t you think I’d be out there looking? Bones, Layela, you two are my best friends, and if you think I’d endanger Yoma even if she’d beg me to, I wouldn’t! I don’t know what’s going on any more than you!”

  Layela studied her friend for a moment, inclined to believe her. She walked behind the counter to pick up her light travel satchel.

  “Then I hope my instincts will guide me. That’s usually enough to find her,” she said. Josmere had witnessed enough of the twins’ link over the years not to question it. She busied herself with the satchel so that the Berganda wouldn’t see the lie in her eyes. In the past few years, her link with Yoma had weakened, to the point where Layela had not even felt the direction in which Yoma had headed.

  When she dared look at Josmere again, the small bag secured around her shoulder, the contract was on the counter with fresh ink drying at the bottom. Suddenly, Layela’s bag felt heavier.

  “I’ll do this, Layl,” Josmere said, her eyes regaining their certainty. “But if you don’t have luck quickly enough for my liking, I’m coming after you.”

  Layela nodded and walked toward the door, trying not to look at the red roses on the right that she had been growing for years, or at the white Lichta flowers that she had bargained three days to acquire. She tried to ignore the musky scent of the Growalls still dancing in the air, and the soft rustle of Mama Knot’s leaves as the large Booknot swayed, agitated by Layela’s unhappiness and departure.

  The door was smooth and cold to the touch, and she closed it quickly behind her before she could relent and convince herself that her dream, her freedom, her flower shop were more important than her sister. It would be too easy to turn back.

  It had been too long a road to Sunrise Flowers for the dream to set in one day.

  i

  The man stood by the railing, his cloaked body outlined by the setting sun. He did not move, did nothing to draw attention, but Avienne Malavant approached him very warily.

  Something about the man’s calm yet ready posture told her that he was a warrior, and probably a dangerous one. Avienne glanced sideways from him and assessed her brother’s appearance. With his black leather pants, loose tunic and vest, he could be just another merchant. But his confident walk and the gun at his waist marked him as something much more dangerous. Not to mention the sword he insisted on strapping to his back, despite Avienne’s teasing and protests. She wished she could tease him now, but despite his casual steps, she could feel tension flowing from him as they approached the stranger.

  Why tonight of all nights? Avienne thought, consciously trying to keep her hands steady. Fidgeting would not do.

  Her brother walked up to the man, his stride unwavering.

  “Beautiful night for a flight, isn’t it?” the man said as soon as the two siblings came within earshot.

  Avienne’s pulse accelerated, though she was careful not to show it. So the man knew they were smugglers. He must have been the one who had sent word he wanted to hire them. If not, he certainly had picked an odd phrase to open the conversation. Besides, this was not a place a man came to unless he had some illegal or immoral business to take care of.

  “That it is,” her brother Ardin said nonchalantly, leaning casually on the railing beside the man. Avienne stood off to one side, close enough to intervene if necessary. She let her brother do most of the talking on these occasions. It had been her experience that in her line of work, men were taken more seriously. Most men did not like talking business with a woman they would prefer to see in their beds.

  The men stood silently and Avienne ran through the possible outcomes of this meeting. The most likely was that they were about to be hired, but being raided or killed also had high probability.

  “Anything we can do for you?” Ardin finally said. Avienne hid a smile. Her brother had never been patient.

  “I need one of the quickest, strongest and most discreet crews in the entire star system to take care of a very important mission. With suitable compensation, of course.”

  “You’ve certainly come to the right crew,” Ardin said, pride filling his voice.

  “That’s what I was told, and I’ve researched extensively.”

  “Good. I’m sure you also found that we’re not the stupidest crew around. We won’t take a suicidal contract just to fill our pockets.”

  “I’d expect no less.”

  “Then what are we talking about?” Ardin said. Avienne winced at the impatience — worse, curiosity — in her brother’s voice. His decisions were not always the most sensible. Avienne had always blamed it on his sense of adventure and undying curiosity — things that she had hoped he would outgrow when he reached manhood. Too many odd adventures and questionable decisions had since occurred for her to continue to hope.

  “A young woman needs protection, although she may not realize it. You may have to convince her to come with you, and bring her to Lockor for her own good.”

  “Kidnapping?” Ardin said, his voice conveying disapproval. There were laws that even smugglers wouldn’t break. Stolen goods were not a problem; stolen people were a different matter entirely.

  “Not quite. It’s where she needs to go, she just doesn’t know it yet.”

  “Still sounds like kidnapping to me,” Ardin said, looking sideways at the man.

  The man shrugged. “You’ll be keeping her safe and protecting her from those who will try to harm her.”

  “Who wants to harm her?” Avienne asked, drawing attention to herself.

  The man did not even bother turning toward her. “Solarian Government. Maybe an assassin or two.”

  “Is that all?” Avienne replied sarcastically. “If it’s too dangerous, we can’t do it,” she said, her
blood boiling. Ardin tensed as her words bit the air, words he had often used on her. “Our duty is to our own.”

  The man turned around slowly and locked eyes with hers. “Remember those words, Avienne Malavant. Remember them well.”

  Ice rushed down Avienne’s spine and she fought not to let it show. The man turned back to lean on the railing. So he knew their names, as well. That did not comfort her.

  “Anything else?” Ardin asked.

  “Yes. You must find her quickly, bring her to your ship and get her away from Collar. If you fail to do this, I won’t be able to compensate you.”

  Ardin looked off into the spaceport where their ship, the Destiny, was docked. Avienne followed his gaze briefly. Although an old, unidentified model, its dull metal and battle scars were more beautiful to her than any of the newer ships in the port. But still...

  Acid sloshed in her stomach and her heart skipped a beat. She forced herself to look away from the old ship and back to the man. Her brother was only second-in-command, so the stakes had to be good for him to accept this mission. He would need to justify his decisions to the captain, a man with a kind heart but little sense of humour when it came to the safety of his ship and crew.

  Hopefully this decision is better than the last three missions he decided we should accept, Avienne thought, almost smiling. Her brother’s voice broke through her musings.

  “How much are we talking about?”

  The man reached inside his cloak. Avienne tensed, her fingers grazing the hilt of one of her throwing knives.

  He pulled a pouch free from his cloak. Avienne focused on his other arm in case the pouch was intended to distract them.