“Not much,” Stone said, “but they’ll have enough to get us home. Plus, this close to Naming Day, their reservoirs will be refilled in a few weeks.” His fingers tightened around the wheel. “So, if we don’t run into any more problems, it should be smooth sailing.”
Aesira tucked the knife away. “More problems like running out of fuel before we get there? Because it seems like a big one to risk.”
“It’ll be close,” Stone said. “But what choice do we have?”
To that, she couldn’t argue. Her name drifted on the wind again like phantom nails raking down her spine. “And what about crawlers?”
Stone propped the wheel, dragging a hand through his auburn hair. “Crawlers are always a possibility. Serpents, storms, Vic, all things we’ll need to be ready for.”
“I thought you said Vic couldn’t catch up?”
“I said it was unlikely, not impossible.”
Aesira was learning that Stone spoke in such a calculated way that oftentimes his version of the truth was a stretched one. She was torn between being annoyed and impressed with his ability to skirt around the truth. He pushed his glasses up onto his nose and she smiled. “You do that a lot.”
“Hm?”
“Push your glasses up.”
He tipped his head down, smiling at her. “I’m flattered, you noticed, Commander.”
“I didn’t–” She shook her head. “My job is in the details. I get paid to notice things.”
“I see.” He adjusted the prop to keep them flying straight then joined her on the crate. “Is that why you came? To make sure I’m doing what I’m meant to?”
She straightened to match his posture. “Yes.” There was no sense in lying. Not when they’d come this far with so much farther to go. She didn’t care if he knew she and Nora were here to oversee him and the rest of the Odegas. To ensure they weren’t planning to steal her sister’s money and run.
She and Stone had been in more than one unfortunate situation since they left Vargah. First with the crawlers, then with Vic. He was starting to prove his loyalty to the job and so she wanted to prove hers back by telling him why she really came.
“I appreciate your directness,” he said through a laugh. “Do you want a drink?” He stood and went to a small crate tethered to the ship. Unlatching it with a key he pulled out a small bottle and two cups.
“I shouldn’t, the Order doesn’t allow–”
“The Order isn’t here,” he said over his shoulder, holding up a glass. “I’m asking you, not them.”
Her breath caught in her throat. It would be easy to say no and let that be it, but something about having the choice, about someone asking her what she wanted made a light spark in her stomach. So she simply nodded and he got busy preparing their drinks. “You’re not upset that my sister doesn’t trust you?”
That I don’t trust you.
He laughed again, the deep rumble filling the open air between them. “She is the queen and I am a reformed criminal. I wouldexpect nothing less.” He popped the cork off the bottle and filled two cups until they were each half full. “Here.” He handed one to Aesira. “Now that we’re being honest with each other, a drink.”
She tapped her glass with his and took a sip. It burned down her throat and sat warm in her belly. The taste not nearly as good as the satisfaction that she made the decision to defy an ironclad rule she typically swore by.
“Drug smuggling isn’t the worst of things.” Aesira took another sip. “I’ve met far more deranged criminals.”
“In the honor of transparency and honesty,” he said raising his glass as if to toast, “you should know I didn’t just smuggledurgi.” He tipped his glass back and emptied it. “I helped make it.”
Realization sunk its teeth into Aesira’s chest making it difficult to breathe.“That would mean you’re–”
“A chemist,” Stone finished for her. She slammed her mouth shut. “So maybe Iamjust as bad as the other delinquents you’ve arrested.” He tipped back his cup, only to realize it was empty. When he stood to pour more, Aesira turned her focus to the moon and to the inky dark that had swept over the desert. She focused on the slight movement of the ship. Focused anywhere but on him.
A chemist.
To smuggle drugs was one thing, tomakeit was a crime that was tried on the same parallel as murder and somehow, Stone had managed to pull off the facade that he was just a smuggler. Maybe he was a better liar than she thought.
“I’m not proud of the work I did for Vic, if that helps,” he said, retaking his seat next to her. “I’ve spent a long time hating myself for what I created.” He held his cup to his lips but didn’t take a sip. “I wish I could say I’m different now but that doesn’t seemfair. Besides, I think no matter how much we change there are parts of our pasts we can’t escape.” He swirled the drink in his cup. “Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I keep the reminders of who I was as punishment for being able to move on when so many can’t.”
He took another sip but grimaced as he swallowed. Like it was difficult to enjoy now that the truth was out there. Despite their differences, she could understand what it meant to live with shame. The feeling of despair that your life could keep moving even when someone else’s ends. “Do we still get to be friends?”
