“What’s this for?” he asks in not quite a whisper.
“Eating,” I not-quite-whisper back.
I make a point not to watch him, but I know he’s frowning at the pancake like he’s trying to work out what to do with it. After a moment, he picks up his fork and sets the bite into his mouth.
I think I hear him sigh.
I feel that noise somewhere deep under my rib cage.
“Um, so, like, what’s going on with you two?” Avi asks. I feel Lament freeze at my side. Heat crawls up my neck.
“What do you mean?” I ask in a voice that is definitely not a squeak.
“You’re feeding Lament pancakes.” She delivers this proclamation with unnecessary force. “And he’seatingthem.”
“Well.” Vera claps her hands brightly. “While Avi and I have a little chat regarding the finer points of discretion, why don’t the rest of you get this place sorted out?”
Everyone starts moving around again, piling dishes and wrapping up leftovers. Lament and I avoid eye contact. Which actually sucks. It’s not until we’ve filed into the elevators and stepped out onto the flight deck that he speaks to me again.
“I’ve already talked to Vera,” he tells my shirt collar. “She’ll take the Sky Runner today. You can ride with her.”
“Wait, what?” My voice comes out louder than I intend. “Why am I not flying with you?”
“I fly alone. As we’ve established.”
“Is this about the pancake?”
He lifts his eyes to mine. “The pancake?”
Shit. Was I making that a thing in my head? I try to backtrack. “I just mean… I thought we’d moved past this.”
He’s shutting down. I can see it, the way he wipes his face clean of emotion, retreats into himself. “There’s nothing to move past.”
I make a frustrated noise. “How am I supposed to be your gunner if you won’t fly with me?”
He just shrugs.
I hate that shrug.
Before I can argue any further, Lament strides off, leaving me, yet again, to watch him walk away.
When I climb into the back of Vera’s split-wing and slam the door hardenough to make the glass shake, I feel like a brute. I’m wrangling the tangle of my harness when Vera and Jester slip into the front seats, throwing me pitying looks. “It’s not just you,” Vera says. “He won’t fly with anyone.”
“So he’s a universal prick. Good to know.”
“Not since the accident,” she continues meaningfully. “Since Bast.”
“Right.” I’m still fighting the stupid harness. “Because no one else is worthy—”
“He’s scared, Keller.”
That makes me stop. “What?”
“The last time he flew with a partner, his best friend died. He watched it happen. He’s afraid it’ll happen again.”
All the anger whooshes out of me. “Oh.” A beat. “Oh.”
Jester turns around in the front passenger seat so I can read his visor.Lament has always been pretty disciplined, but it’s gotten worse since the accident.
