Breaker looks at me sharply, but he doesn’t say anything to let Noa know that he hadn’t known that.
“We are keeping that quiet.”
Noa looks up at me, squinting—he never should have taken his glasses off. “I understand confidentiality better than you’d think.No onewill know she exists because of me.”
Nodding, I let him get back to his work, answering the questions I can and watching both the horizon and Breaker.
In another situation, I might like Noa. He’s serious when he needs to be, butonlywhen he needs to be. And I can’t tell if his humor is forced, if his seemingly ever-present smile is a product of his profession.
But I don’t think it is…
Which makes this even less enjoyable than it would have been in the first place.
When Breaker is out of earshot, I turn slightly to Noa. “You should see a doctor.”
It won’t save him, but it might ease whatever brings what I saw to pass.
His brow ridges fly high, but he’s still smiling. “Is that your… thing? I know the brothers all have one. Can you smell my illness?”
“Not exactly.”
“Thank you for your concern, but my doctors and I already know.” He looks at me a little longer and finally, his smile falters. “That moment when we met. It was a pause so brief I thought I imagined it, but… you saw me die.”
“I saw you dead. There is a difference.”
“I have spent two fortunes trying to change my fate, Shock. Can you tell me how?”
“No.”
Then, as ifhe’sthe one who knows things, he says, “Once you’ve seen it, it’s set. You’ve never been wrong?”
“Not once.”
He nods and then shrugs. “There’s nothing that can be done. I promise I’ve taken every possible chance…” He laughs, the first bitter sound I’ve heard from him. “And death will not be enough to pay for the sins I committed trying to save myself.”
Looking out over the snow, he releases a deep breath that mists in the air. “Do you know when? I don’t ask out of morbid curiosity… I would prefer to take certain precautions.”
“What kind of precautions?”
“Are you bonded?” He looks at me like he might be able to tell from my appearance.
“Not yet.”
A different smile touches his lips. “I love my bondmate more than I could ever tell you… If I can ensure she lives… I would spend a hundred fortunes.”
I look at him, trying to find his answer, but it gives me nothing. “I’m sorry, I can’t see that future.”
He swallows, his eyes bright and I realize… he’s on the verge of tears.
Hope can be a terrible thing. For a moment, Noa had it again, and with one uncertainty, I ripped it away.
“Thank you for trying to help.” He moves to the next piece of the ship, inspecting it wordlessly, and then the next.
Try as I might, I cannot see what happens to his bondmate.
And I am reminded of how often this feels like a curse. Not a gift.
We work our way through a large chunk of the debris field until Noa finds what he’s been looking for all this time.
