I’m surrounded by stillness and stars. It’s late by the ship’s clock, so the popular observation deck is empty with couches and small tables scattered like an asteroid field of comfort. I can see Talie’s reflection in the sio-glass as she approaches, right on time. It looks like she’s floating as she glides across the star deck.
“I wondered if you’d show.” I keep my gaze on her reflection, but the scent of her Meloran perfume reaches me first.
“I’m just as surprised you’re here.”
When I turn, my breath lodges in my throat. She’s a vision of morning mist brought to life in a sparkling gown of white silk and Zerias crystals. The straps of her sandals wrap around her ankles like twisting silver vines, and her hair falls loose, framing her face with gray-blonde spirals.
“And miss this sight?” I look right at her.
“Renner.” Her reprimand is undermined by the hint of a blush on her pale cheeks.
“The stars, of course.” I turn away. Looking at her for too long will do disastrous things to my willpower.
“The star deck is one of my favorite places on the ship.” She steps up to the sio-glass next to me, close enough that I feel the heat from her skin contrasted against the cold of space.
“You were snoring when I left.” My tone is light to break whatever tension exists between us.
“I don’t snore.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t call it snoring so much as rattling the walls.”
“You’re insufferable.”
I beam down at her. “One of my better qualities.”
I catch her eye roll, pleased I can always manage to get under her skin. We remain silent until she looks over at me.
“You’re injured.” She reaches out, and her fingers trail lightly over the bruise forming next to my eye.
I flinch when she hits a particularly sensitive spot. “It’s nothing. I’ve had much worse.”
I avoid looking at her by staring down at the small white cup in my hands as if it will erase the feeling of her soft skin on mine.
“What do you have there?”
“Coffee. So they claim.” I make a dramatic sigh. “We have the power of galaxies at our touch, and still the Source can’t make a decent cup of coffee.”
Her laugh is like warm honey. “You’re right. It’s not as good as on-planet coffee, no matter what they say.”
I nod. The difference between Sourced—or fabricated—food and naturally grown food is laughable. It’s fuel and will keep you going indefinitely, but Source machines aren’t meant to do much more than that.
Another moment of silence descends on us. I know what comes next. She’ll blow past the pleasantries—the part I’m good at—and demand the truth. Ever since I left her on my bed to recover from the use of her ability, I’ve been agonizing over what I’ll say. What I’ll divulge and what I’ll skillfully hide.
“So,” she begins.
“Let me guess.” I shift toward her. “You want to know who I get my incredible good looks from.”
Her frown resurfaces. “Actually, I wanted to know—”
“My first father. He was quite handsome.” I show off my dimples. I’ve been told they’re rather distracting.
“Just. Stop.” Her gaze hardens to obsidian.
I turn away, focusing on the stars again. How could she hope for anything more than my humorous smokescreen? Maybe because I promised her answers. I curse past Renner for his weakness. I’ve already given too much away, and yet—whether she wanted to or not—she’s revealed much to me in the last day.
“You gave me your word.”
And there it is. The linchpin. And my undoing.
Look out Verse, Renner Cartha has a conscience.
“So I did.” My words come out on a sigh.
I know she won’t be satisfied until she’s gotten something out of me.
She waits, arms folded as she rests against the sio-glass.
“What do you want to know?”
She shoots upright, anger flashing like a solar flare. “Everything.”
“I was partial to technological science in school. I hid a pet iduos in my room when I was seven, and sometimes I dream about muffins.”
“Renner.” My name comes out like a curse. She clenches her jaw, hands fisting, as she steps up to me. Her sandals are flat and offer her no height advantage, and yet I still take a half step back. She’s in my space, and it’s unnerving.
“You said everything.”
“You know exactly what I meant. What are you really doing on this ship? Do you even have a family? What do you know of my sister? Who’s that girl on your datapad?” She stops as the last question slips out.
Girl on my—
“Why, Talie, I didn’t take you to be the jealous type.”
She flushes, and I laugh. I can’t help it. She looks so cute with her scowl offset by sunrise cheeks.
“Okay, calm down, Le’è.” My voice drops. “I’ll tell you what I can.”
She spears me with a testing look, but then her arms drop, offering me the chance at truth.
“Sit.” She points to a rounded couch in front of a bubbled viewport surrounded by starry space. “Talk.”
I’m tempted to make a joke, anything to ease the tension that’s thickened between us, but I hold back.
“I did have a family—do.” I begin with the obvious. “They live in a village not far from the base of the Solax Mountains on Drawx. But when I joined the royal guard, I was forced to cut ties. I haven’t seen them in many cycles, but I do send money through a man in the village.” I imagine my sisters, their dark hair and tanned complexion so like my own. “Two of my sisters are married now, and the last is courting. My contact says he’s a good man. After losing my second father, my mother has not remarried.”
She sits in silence, letting me tell my story at my own pace, but I falter. What more can I tell her but of the loss I feel for my family or the pain of watching their lives from a distance? I focus on something that hurts less. What I know of her.
“I know you’re a Gravless.” I find I’m not able to hold her gaze, and I look out to the twinkling black. “You and your twin sister Merritt are the daughters of Celennie Eqorta—the High Queen’s sister—and born with the mastery of gravity. You’re Daughters of the Court.”
I think back to what Lè Fayrin has shared with me.
“I know you’ve both been missing—presumed dead—for ten cycles, ever since the upset between your mother and your aunt.” It feels odd to tell her of her own history, but she hasn’t stopped me yet. “The rumors claim your parents sent you both out into the Verse to keep you from the pressure—and danger—of the throne. Though many claim you were both killed after their transport was bombed.”
At this, I risk a glance at her. Tears fight with determination, and I resist the urge to pull her into a hug. I may not get to see my family, but at least they’re alive.
“Go on.” Her voice is a hoarse whisper.
“And now that your aunt is dead,” I clear my throat, “you or your sister must take the throne due to the Rule of Gravless.”
“I must be the one to take the throne.”
I send her a sharp look.
“I’m the eldest.”
“I see.” I don’t know all the rules, but this seems to follow. “Then you are the one in line for the throne, but no one knows where either of you are.”
“Yet you know of my sister’s whereabouts.” Her tone is cool glass.
And this is where things get dangerous.
“I will admit, as I have before,” mistakenly, “I have some knowledge of your sister.”
“How is that possible?” She turns to me, the full force of her gaze locked on mine.
“The girl you asked about,” I can’t help my smile, “is Lè Fayrin Tai. She is—was—my charge and is the connection.” There are worlds of information beyond that simple admission.
“And she knows of my sister?”
“She has some information.” I expect her to fight this. To demand answers. But instead she leans back, her eyes focusing on the air between us.
“I was five when they took me away.” Her words are memory. “My sister and I were on a transport together, but she got off first. I remember Doyua, my nurse, held me on her lap and whispered that everything would be fine, but I knew it would not. How could it? Mamma and Papa said goodbye, and I knew they weren’t light words. They held the weight of forever. It was only later, once aboard the Midway, that Doyua told me of the explosion.” She fingers the light fabric of her dress, twisting it back and forth. “I joined the circus at ten—they were Doyua’s people—and have been here ever since, waiting…”
“For what?” I feel like an idiot for asking, but I wonder what she was promised. A return? A new life? A reunion with her rightful family?
“For revolution.”
A current zaps through me.
“Renner.” She wraps her arms around herself. “Were you sent to find me?”
“What?”
She bites a lip, worrying it before answering. “You know who I am. You almost kidnapped me. I’m afraid you’re here to kill me.”
I laugh. The sound bursts out of me, and I fail to cover my amusement. “You think I’m an assassin?”
“It’s not out of the realm of possibilities.” She’s angry now.
“If I were an assassin, I would be doing a terrible job of it.”
“It’s just that after Queen Laerkin’s death—”
I flinch. I can’t help it, and she catches my reaction.
“Why are you here, Renner?”
“I…can’t tell you.”
“Can’t or won’t?” She moves toward me.
I push from the couch, tossing my arms out and letting them swing back and forth. Anything to alleviate the pressure I feel to tell Talie what I’m doing on the Midway.
“Does it have something to do with my aunt’s death?”
My heart speeds. She’s hitting close to the truth, but she’s still lightcycles off.
“Renner, what is it? Tell me.”
She deserves to know, doesn’t she?
“Please.” The sweetness in her open expression is too powerful. The creamy curves of her cheeks fade to pale pink lips, and her glistening blue eyes ask for the truth. Deserve it—even.
Talie weakens my resolve simply by existing.
“I can tell you this—and only this.” I make sure she can see my hardened resolve. “I am on a mission to deliver sensitive information to the High Council.” I’m breaking Lè Fayrin’s trust, but I can’t deny the compulsion to give Talie some solid truth. “It’s about who assassinated the queen and why.”