Read Online Flame by Amy Kathleen Ryan - Free Book Online

camouflaged a small bump. He blanched and pushed the tray off his legs. Maya darted forward to catch it.
    “Please,” he said. “I need to be alone.”
    She stood over him, holding the tray, an expression of sorrow on her face. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled and shuffled out.
    Seth cradled his hand to his chest. He wanted Waverly so badly then, just to hold her. Just to hold.

 
    DUEL
     
    Waverly had hardly slept since that awful reunion with the Empyrean kids. The way Serafina had clung to her, arms and legs wrapped around her, broke her heart. I let her down, she realized. I was her babysitter before. I should have taken care of her, but I was too wrapped up in my own problems to think about her. Afterward, she’d asked the guard outside her door if she could visit Serafina and the rest of the kids, but he’d flatly refused, and she’d slunk to her bed, feeling defeated.
    She hated herself even more for the petty jealousy that haunted her. The way Kieran had held Felicity, his hands spread over the small of her back, his face in her abundant blond hair—that was how he’d always held Waverly, before. He could have sought Waverly out, wrapped his arms around her and held on, but he hadn’t. He’d chosen Felicity, and though Waverly knew she had no claim on him anymore, it still hurt. Seeing this proof that Kieran had moved on had brought a debilitating homesickness down on her. Not homesickness for the Empyrean, though she missed her home with every part of her. It was homesickness for the past, for her old self, for her mother, and for Kieran the way she used to know him.
    For the last several days, she’d given in to her depression, had hidden in her room, head under the covers, her mother bringing trays of food and taking them away barely touched. She was waiting.
    She knew Mather would come for her. It was in the woman’s DNA to invade, meddle, control. So when the knock came at the front door, Waverly jerked in her bed, listening to her mother greet the holy Pastor with utmost deference. Sighing, Waverly reached for a black cardigan that had been left in her bedroom closet along with a full wardrobe of the simple, somber clothes that people wore on this ship. She slipped it on and looked at herself in the oblong mirror hanging on her bedroom door. She didn’t know the girl in the drab shift standing there with the ratty brown hair and the haunted eyes. Too thin, too pale, too wispy. Weak.
    “Waverly!” her mother called from the living room.
    She took a deep breath, walked the length of the hall, and found Anne Mather in the doorway, two armed men behind her. They held their guns across their chests, their eyes on Waverly.
    “Hello,” Mather said, betraying a nervousness in the quick movements of her hands that Waverly had never seen before.
    Waverly did not return the greeting. She stood in the middle of the living room with her hands at her sides, waiting.
    “I thought you might join me for a pot of tea and some treats?”
    “I don’t suppose I can refuse,” Waverly said with a glance at the guards.
    “You absolutely can refuse,” Mather said. “I want a fresh start with you. That means you’re free.”
    “Except for the guard posted outside my door,” Waverly rejoined with a look at the snide, balding man she’d come to despise.
    Mather dropped a beat. “Yes. I do need to worry about the safety of my crew.”
    “And your own safety.”
    “Yes.” Mather flicked her chin up defiantly. “Well? Will you come?”
    A small part of her was curious about what Mather had to say, so she kissed her mother, strode out the door past the armed men, and headed toward the elevators.
    Mather caught up with her, stooped, struggling to keep pace. She’s short, Waverly realized. She’d never thought of the woman’s height before. Mather had always seemed beyond physical considerations, but now she looked small and weak. Maybe what Dr. Carver told Waverly was true: The Pastor was losing her