He nodded as he climbed back up to his feet and walked over to the wall of wine. He scanned the labels, then selected one and blew dust off the dark glass. “What are your thoughts on Cabernet?”
“I’d be fine with moonshine at this point.”
“Can you make a bottle opener, Amara?”
I frowned. “Is it just for me, or are you planning on drinking?”
“Don’t feel like sharing?”
“I thought you didn’t drink.”
“I don’t.”
I touched my tattoo but remembered the dust was presently glowing on the ceiling. Tentatively, I stood up. My knees felt like they’d been stuffed with damp cotton, but surprisingly they held me upright. I directed my good arm toward the orb and snatched off a piece, then twisted it into a corkscrew that I handed over to Remo. He popped the cork out of the bottle, then tendered back the bottle opener, which I wadded up and tossed back toward the glowing orb.
He took a swig of the wine, then proffered it my way. The woodsy flavor coated my tongue and throat like velvet. I took another swig, then passed the wine back. We didn’t talk as we drank, just plopped down beside each other with our backs to one of the brick walls. Every so often, the ceiling and door would groan, and my dust orb would shudder, but then all would settle and grow still again.
Halfway through the bottle, my blood began to fizz, sweeping away the ache in my arm. I leaned my head back against the bricks and watched the orb I’d created. “I’m glad you followed me through the portal, whatever your reason for doing so.”
Remo coughed. He passed me the bottle and coughed some more.
I took a swig. “My grandfather was a really screwed-up man.”
He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and side-eyed me. Since he hated my parents, he probably admired Linus. After all, Gregor had been a fan of the tyrant—before he’d switched camps on the Day of Mist, sensing the winds were changing—and Remo and his grandfather were almost the same person.No.That wasn’t true. Gregor would never have crafted a sling for my arm.
Orhugged me.
“At least it never gets boring for prisoners in here,” he ended up saying.
“Ha.” My cheeks lifted with a cheerless smile. “Most creative correctional facility I’ve ever been to for sure.” I took another drink, then passed the bottle back to Remo.
“You’ve been to others?”
“Sook loves virtual reality arcades, and some of the games we play take place in prisons.”
“You two are close, huh?”
I bobbed my head. “He and Giya are my best friends. Myonlyfriends. Hard to trust people when you aren’t certain of their intentions.” Not that people had lined up to be my friend after Remo’s rumor about my killer blood.
His gaze slid down my face. “I remember when thatdilestung you. Sook was bawling when I got there.”
I shivered at the memory of the sting, how frightened I’d been when I’d felt the venom coursing through my veins. I’d told Giya she could take the pearl earrings Nima had gifted me after her trip to the South Sea, and I’d told Sook he could take my roll-up TV—the first one in Neverra. The last thing I remembered before my heart had stopped was Giya telling me to shut up and that she hated pearls—she didn’t.
Remo put the bottle back into my hands, and I upended it. “You know what I remember? How disappointed you looked that I’d survived.”
There was a beat of silence. “Disappointed? I . . . I wasn’t disappointed.”
“Angry, then? Annoyed?” I glanced at the strong lines of his profile. “It’s fine, Remo. Water under the bridge. Air under the portal.”
“You’re terrible at reading people.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, really.”
I sat up a little. “What were you, then?”
“Hand over the wine.”
