My throat tightens. Honesty has never been my strong suit, especially regarding my relationship with my commanding officer. Still, I’m trying something new: trusting and being brave. If I want it badly enough, maybe it will come true. And I want Soter. I’m going to tell him how I feel, and if he doesn’t feel the same, at least I tried. “Soter.”
Jaxson groans. “Didn’t you get the memo? Work’s finished for the night.”
I manage a smile.
“Besides,” Jax continues as Wilder dips Leigh low, and the crowd hoots and hollers, “whatever you’ve got to say, you should say to Wilder instead.”
I frown. “Why Wilder?”
Jax looks at me sidelong. “He’s coming back to the force. Soter stepped down.”
My mouth falls open. “Soter didwhat?”
Jax takes another sip of his drink. “He left. Went back to Borealis. Probably should’ve stayed—maybe a party would loosen him up. He’s wound so tight, I bet he shits diamonds.”
A group nearby is laughing, but I don’t join in. “You don’t have to be so mean.”
Jax, with his jokes and carefree personality, will be a fantastic father. Something he never openly said he wanted, but now, I can’t see his future any other way. So why can’t Soter prove me wrong? Did he step down for me? I won’t know unless I ask.
Jax’s laughter falters. “Huh?”
I straighten. I’m not here to argue with Jaxson—we’re friends—but I am a little pissed about his remark about only friends using my first name. I know what Jax said isn’t the reason Soter broke things off, though. I can only blame myself for that. Me and my reluctance to make us public. Enough is enough. I’m tired of feeling like I can’t trust the people I love because I am afraid they’ll let me down.
“You’re all so hard on him,” I say. “I know he gives just as good as he gets, but we’re a team. You may not live in Borealis anymore, Jax, but you’re still one of us—and Soter has been there since the beginning. If I have any say, he’s not going anywhere.”
I turn, heart pounding, determination burning away the last threads of doubt.
“Where are you going?” Jax calls after me.
“To the train station,” I shout. “I’m getting my boyfriend back.” I don’t care who hears me.
I missedthe last train out of Glaucus. The whole city is celebrating Leigh and Wilder’s wedding, with posters of them plastered over every building and bus stop. Someone tried to sell me a ceramic tea set and a matching towel with Wilder’s face on it. I just said hell no, and kept walking.
Giving up the commander position was probably the hardest, yet also the easiest, thing I’ve ever done. My father has already sent multiple messages of disappointment and the usual jabs about how unsurprising it is that I quit. I’ve always been a letdown, a joke to him. I’ll never be like Keris—and honestly, that’s a good thing. My brother sucks. I’m over trying to be like them; it won’t make me happy, and they don’t seem to care about who I am or what matters to me. The one thing that would bring me joy is out of reach now, since there’s no way she would look at me twice after I demoted myself. It’s time to leave the past behind and start living by my own rules.
Alone at the Weiss Train Station, I lean against a pillar and pull a cigarette from my pocket. I snap my fingers to summon my flame. I take a deep inhale. The familiar burn at the back of my throat fades into the numbness I’ve been chasing. Bliss from the first drag lasts only a moment, then I’m empty again.
I take another drag.
“Miss, the platform’s closed,” someone shouts.
“I’m looking for someone.”
My heart jolts. I drop my cigarette and grind it under my boot. From the mouth of the corridor, under flickering gas lamps, Isolde strides right onto the platform, radiant in her pink bridesmaid dress, tattoos on display, blue hair falling in loose waves. Those heels are too high, but they make her legs look unfairly long. She’s stunning—and she’s here.
“The last train left an hour ago,” the ticket salesman explains.
“No,” Isolde breathes.
My heart wavers. What is Isolde doing here? Surely, she wasn’t planning to make the trip back to Borealis wearing that dress and those shoes.
“I’m sorry, miss,” the salesman says, his tone softening. “You can buy a ticket for the morning, but nothing leaves until seven.”
Isolde nods. “Thanks. Can I have a minute?”
“Five. Then I lock up.”
“I’ll be gone before then,” she promises.
