The Diatous Wars 1: Rebel Wing Read Online Free PDF Page B

air, moisture streaking the glass dome as she moved through a patch of cloud. Tears burned her cheeks.
    She couldn’t stay here, knowing Calix was out there risking his life. Not when she had a chance to help. She thought about what she would say to her parents, her friends . . . when she would leave. Smiling grimly through her tears, she planned her escape.

Chapter 7
    The darkness spun, endless shadows twisting through a featureless night. A whispered word and a murmured command cut through the haze like strands of silver woven in black velvet. Galena Vadim didn’t recognize the voices, couldn’t understand the words.
    No . . . cover her . . . in here . . .
    When she blinked, the world transmuted from gray to brilliant white. Too bright. She closed her eyes, opened them a slit until they could adjust. The ceiling above her glowed.
    She blinked again, catching whispers of black and brown at the corners of her eyes.
    Where am I?
    For a moment she thought she might still be at the World Council, crumpled on the cold floor, but her body had already begun to register the cushion of a mattress beneath it.
    The brown shadows gradually resolved themselves into a huge, hulking man leaning over her, his shaved head gleaming mahogany in the harsh light. Startled by his presence, she tried to draw back, but the bone-white sheets tucked tight to her collarbone restrained her.
    She opened her mouth to scream.
    “There’s no need for that,” the man said. He loomed closer and placed something cold and metallic against her neck.
    “What happened? Where am I?” Galena asked, and in so doing realized she had very little voice with which to scream.
    “You are ill, Ward. You shouldn’t speak. And don’t try to move.”
    Ill? As her eyes adjusted to the light, Galena saw that the man wore a sleek white mender’s tunic, a tight undersheath, and white pants. An official ID was clearly visible on a chain around his neck. She relaxed slightly. She must be in a clinic.
    “Where is Dima?” Even if Galena were still in Atalanta, her personal mender would have come to supervise her care. As Ruslana’s premier mender, Dima was responsible for the health of the dominion’s highest officials. Galena squinted at the man’s ID. “Elom?”
    “Dima isn’t here,” he replied, moving the cold thing to a place just above her collarbone, against her skin. “Take a deep breath, please.”
    She did as he asked. In the quiet of the room, a machine beeped softly, in time with her heartbeat. Gradually, the beeping slowed.
    “Why isn’t Dima here? Where am I?” The words scratched her throat as she voiced them, as if clawing their way out.
    “See for yourself.” He stepped away long enough to retrieve a small digitablet, which he propped up on her lap. When he tapped the monitor on the wall beside her, the top half of the bed slid smoothly upward, until she was sitting. She was still trapped by the sheets, even her arms held immobile.
    “Can you free my arms?” Galena’s vision remained a little hazy; small black dots huddled in her periphery, the darkness waiting for its chance to claim her again.
    Elom settled a large hand on her shoulder. “It’s best if you don’t move, Ward. Please relax.” He pressed a button on the digitablet. The screen shimmered to life and showed a news report, dated four days after her last memory. She couldn’t tell if the footage was live.
    A woman in a sleek gray dress gazed into the camera. “There is still no word on Ward Vadim’s condition. The newly elected Ward of Ruslana fell ill during last week’s World Council, after announcing that Ruslana had imposed sanctions on Safara. A vote on whether the other dominions would follow suit was abandoned when Vadim lost consciousness. She was rushed to a local Atalantan clinic, where she’s been ever since.” The woman gestured to a graceful, glass-walled building behind her. “We’re awaiting confirmation that Vadim has regained