“Are you sure you want to be responsible for him?” Oljin asks her, something tender in his expression. Jealousy enters, quick and stealthy as a trespasser, and I slit its throat just as quickly before it shows on my skin.
“What if I say no?” Her cheeks redden with her soft question, but the color doesn’t indicate passion, as it would if she were Irran. It’s something else. But tell that to my cock, who listens to the goddess’s will but never to mine. It swells at the prospect of her interest, even though I will quash any hint of her desire.Wanting heronly another frixing string to bind me.
“Then he will stay here alone,” Oljin says firmly. “His ship will stay in the hangar, unrepaired.”
Her eyes search my face. What is she looking for? “If I help you, will you help me?”
No. Frix. Yes. This is the only way. “Fine.”
She must believe me, because she nods. “Then I’ll do it.”
“Any missteps, I will be unable to free you,” Oljin tells me. It’s like staring in a mirror located somewhere in the future that reflects my face back at me, but forty-years aged. And I can tell future-me has a very low opinion of present-me.
I bow without reply, knowing my mouth will only get me in trouble, and he leaves us.
“Guess you’re stuck with me,” Lena chirps cheerfully, taking my arm.
I wrench it away. “For now.”
“Is that how it is?” She laughs as we exit our little prison. I amso sickof that sound.
“Yes,” I snap, following her down the hall. “As soon as my ship is repaired, I won’t need you anymore. I’ll probably kill you.” I say it half-heartedly, in the hope she’ll stop talking.
My harsh words do nothing to deter her, though. She points out every dirty, dented feature in this goddess-forsaken place. The holes where comms have been ripped out of the wall. The hatches that have been clumsily welded together and leak acidic outside air in tiny, smokey puffs. The broken floor grates to step over.
This is no base, I quickly realize. This is a collection of old ships clumsily patched into a sprawling, nonsensical structure. I suppose that without a planet to call home, the Frathiks might struggle to acquire the materials necessary to build something new. I did not realize their situation was so dire.
We reach her quarters in some far corner of the place, and I’m not sure why we even bothered. It’s nearly as spare as the holding cell we came from. There’s low platform bed with a single, thin fur on it. A light. A jacket hanging on a hook. A towel on another. A basket in the corner. It’s clean, at least. I’m used to modest living on the Eye, but nothing like this.
“Where are your things? Your clothes?” I ask her.
She gives me a funny look. “I’m wearing them.”
I look at her, really look at her, for the first time. Her garments are an odd mix. Frathik boots. A brown, long-sleeved sveli with patched elbows and no sash to hold it shut. Some tired-looking terrakin garments underneath, printed with a furry animal I don’t recognize.
“They’re goats,” she says, noticing my interest. “On my pajamas.”
“That means nothing to me.” I turn back to the pathetic excuse for a bed. “Is this all they’ve given you? This is unacceptable.”
“I feel lucky to have this,” she murmurs, like she hopes I won’t hear.
“What?”
She pulls in a deep breath and speaks more clearly. “I’m lucky to have this. Oljin and Rose had two braxa hides when they escaped Irra. That’s what they’ve used on their bed all these years. When Harl brought me here, they loaned me one of them to use for my bed. The Frathiks just sleep on thin mats, no blankets,” she explains, her fingers twisting together nervously. “A stranger lets you borrow one of their dearest possessions...that’s pretty special.”
“Take me to my wreck of a ship,” I demand. “There’s something I need.”
Chapter 5
Lena
He’s furious. To be fair, Lyro’s seemed furious about pretty much everything since I met him, but who wouldn’t be after crashing and being taken into custody when they’re just trying to rescue someone? But he seems particularly pissed off about my bed.
“Where is my ship?” he growls, lip curled.
“Oljin said they brought to the hangar, remember?” I reply absentmindedly, trying to see my room through his eyes. He’s probably used to nicer things, being the son of an Emperor. I feel bad for him, getting stuck with me when he doesn’t want to be. Hopefully, once he gets to know me, he’ll warm up a little. I think I’m pretty easy to live with.
He’s suddenly in my space, so close that I have to tip my head back to look at him. “Where is the hangar?” he asks, speaking slowly and breaking up his words as though he’s talking to a child.
