Rivers of Orion by Dana Kelly (a court of thorns and roses ebook free .TXT) 📕

“We got lucky,” said Lomomu. “We’re definitely within walkin’ distance.”

Ellylle rustled quietly. “Only a moron relies on luck and brags about it afterward.”

“This’ll be fun,” said Zella. “Do ye make friends everywhaur ye go?”

“You’re clearly the brains of this operation. Don’t cheapen yourself with sarcasm.” Ellylle straightened and shared a mysterious smile. “You should be running your own fleet. Perhaps one day you will.”

As Zella prepared her retort, Reggie seated a gentle hand upon her shoulder and shook his head. “Not worth it. You’d be yelling at the wall.”

“Aye, Cap'n,” said Zella. “Let’s go, then.”

Quickly, they gathered their things and descended to the lower deck, where they exited the starboard airlock. Howling winds blustered against them as the crew secured their jackets. Ellylle followed the signs pointing toward Edenbridge Palace, and the others kept up, albeit several paces behind.

Crossing inside, they navigated the starport’s well-lit interior. They passed empty waste receptacles, shuttered coffee kiosks, and closed snack shacks. The air felt pleasantly cool, the tile floors looked pristine, and every metal surface gleamed. From a nearby maintenance bay, an automated floor sweeper suddenly zipped into view. It followed the crew, slowly zigging and zagging as it scrubbed away every footfall.

Before long, they stepped out onto the sidewalk, into the embrace of the gusty eventide. Neon signs hung high in the air, and although cars lined the sidewalks, trash lingered between flat tires, and none of them had license plates. Dark alleys separated boarded up warehouses covered in graffiti, yet everything looked clean and well-maintained.

“Feels like a movie set,” said Reggie. “It’s lunch hour, according to local time. Where is everybody?”

“Fir the record, Ah dinnae care fir this place,” said Zella. “It’s givin me the boak. How many people live haur, anyway?”

“The population index said twenty thousand,” said Lomomu. “But it hasn’t been updated since it was colonized, so I figured it was a mistake.” Winds whipped his fur. “Maybe not, though. Maybe no one else came over.”

They continued on in silence, until they stood before a grand, marble overpass. “The palace is just up ahead,” said Ellylle, and she led them along the bridge.

Descending toward a circular maze of buildings and sidewalks, they at last encountered signs of life. Cars moved here and there. A bus rumbled and pulled away. Hand-in-hand, a couple hurried through an obtrusive holographic woman, playfully dancing as she thrust something bright pink and cylindrical toward them.

Standing nearby with three other women, a pale stranger approached the group. Her metallic purple eye shadow glinted in the lamplight, and the wind hardly disturbed her bright-red waterfall perm. Dressed in a trench coat and high heels, she spoke just loud enough to be heard. “Haven't seen you around, before. You looking for a good time?”

“Appreciate the offer, but you aren’t my type,” said Reggie.

Not missing a beat, she shifted her attention to Lomomu. “I’d love to make you squeal. How about it, big boy?”

Lomomu cleared his throat. “No thanks, miss. I mean, you’re pretty and all, but it’d just be bad for future business. Like the sayin’ goes: once you go sude, you want no other dude.”

“I know where we can spend an hour finding out if it’s true.” She ran her fingers through the supple fur on his head.

“Thanks, but… no thanks,” said Lomomu.

“Ah dinnae want whit ye’re sellin either,” said Zella, and she offered a friendly smile. “Just savin ye some time.”

The stranger smiled back, but her eyes carried a deep and distant sadness. “I’ll be right here. If you change your mind, I’m always here.”

They made their way along the streets to the palace gates, where a dozen ceremonially dressed guards stood at the ready. Manning the security booth, a sharply dressed officer stepped close and discussed with Ellylle in hushed tones. Reggie, Zella, and Lomomu gawked at the beauty of the capitol.

A tessellated drive surrounded a grand fountain. At its heart, a statue of an equestrian hero reared back, pouring water from a pair of vases. Placed amidst topiary gardens that framed the palace's front entrance walkway, a half dozen other statues accented the manicured grounds. The palace’s marble edifice stood three stories tall, and towers capped the sunward and seaward wings. Hanging over the entrance, a vaulted balcony rose above the rooftop.

With a nod, the officer returned to his booth and the gates glided open. As Reggie, Lomomu, and Zella followed Ellylle, the guardsman moved to stop the crew. “Just her," said the officer. “You lot better find something else to do for a few hours. You might consider paying a visit to one of our many fine information centers.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Reggie, as Ellylle passed through, and the gates slid closed. He gestured for his comrades to follow. Heading back out into town, they soon spotted a cylindrical stall topped with a conical roof. It bore a signboard that read, “Information,” and they gathered round its columns of screens.

“As I live and breathe,” said a voice far in the distance. “Reginald Yao, is that you?”

Surprised, Reggie spun around to regard the person who addressed him. A grin dawned slowly across his face. “Nate?”

“I’ll be,” said Nathaniel. Tall, strong, broad-shouldered, with sideburns and a barrel chest, he wore a beat cop’s uniform and a constable’s cap. His cigarette glowed as he took a long pull and slowly loosed a cloud of blue smoke. He wore gloves, and his long coat billowed in the wind.

“When did you start impersonating a police officer?” asked Reggie.

With a hearty laugh, Nathaniel set his cigarette down on the inside ledge of a periodical dispenser, and the two quickly embraced. “It’s Constable Knox, and I go by Nathaniel these days. I’d appreciate it if you toe the line.”.

“Oh yessir, Constable, sir!” Reggie exaggerated a salute.

Nathaniel affectionately squeezed Reggie’s shoulder and regarded the others. “My eyes must be playing tricks on me. Isabella, is that you?”

“Hello, Nate.” Zella waved, and she smiled.

“The Isabella McMasters,” said Nathaniel. “When the hell did you grow up?”

“Ah guess it’s been a