Then I tell her of Eden’s involvement, how he has entangled himself in something so much more dangerous than he knows.
June frowns. “You weren’t afraid of Dominic Hann before Eden met him,” she says, studying me.
“He was a job before then,” I reply, “until I saw the same culprit from our crime photos walking up to my brother. And now the AIS wants Eden to join the investigation, to lure the man out of hiding.”
June doesn’t answer right away, but her eyes are steady. They steadyme. Somehow, in the midst of everything going wrong between Eden and me, her presence is a comfort in the dark. I don’t feel alone confessing all this to her.
“You still know Eden better than anyone else,” June says after a while. “He’s your brother. You’ve protected him all your life, and I know he understands that.”
“It’s my protection of him that seems to have pushed him away.” I run a frustrated hand through my hair, ruffling it. “I used to think that nothing in the world could ever divide us. But then Eden grew older. He’s changed, maybe for the better. But there are things he doesn’t tell me now, and I don’t know how to guess what he’s thinking.”
June smiles. “You’ll never be able to guess what he’s thinking,” she replies. “Metias always tried with me, you know. He never really succeeded, but we’d still been linked. You and Eden have a bond that’s unbreakable. No matter what he isn’t telling you, he still loves you more than anyone else in the world. I know it. I’ve seen it.”
Metias. The brother that June had lost, the death that had, fatefully, brought us together. I search her gaze and find grief there, but also a sense of peace. “He practically raised you,” I saygently. “I wish I could measure up to that. I’ve tried being a good father figure for Eden, but… sometimes I wonder if he’s worse off for it.”
“You’re afraid for him,” June says. “That he wants to help in this investigation of a dangerous criminal.”
“I’m always afraid for him,” I reply.
There’s a deep understanding in June’s eyes. “You’ve helped Eden come into his own as a person. Everything about him is modeled after you, in the best way. Don’t you see that? But, Daniel, he’s not a helpless child. He’ll resist every attempt you make to insulate him from the world. Let him in a little. Let someone else offer their shoulder to you. Maybe he’s pushing away because he loves you, because he worries for you just like you worry for him.”
“I know he’s not helpless,” I mutter, shoving my hands into my pockets. “But the AIS isn’t keen on his safety. No one is. I’m the steward of that.”
“I wasn’t talking completely about Eden’s safety. I was also talking about yours.” A slight furrow creases in June’s brow. “Something you never seem to be as concerned about as you should. Others worry for you too, you know. You would do well to acknowledge that.”
Her rephrasing instantly sends a stab of guilt through me. “I’m sorry,” I admit, turning my eyes down. “I’m just worried for him.” Outside, the southern lights have begun their evening dance, painting the sky in ribbons of turquoise and white. “Hann isn’t going to forget about him. He’s probably got his men investigating the power outage I triggered down in the Undercity. He’s not going to let Eden go that easily, not when he seemed fascinated enough to come out of hiding to see him race.”
June shakes her head. “Eden hasn’t changed at all, has he?” she says quietly.
At that, a smile sneaks onto the corner of my lips. “It’s the best and worst thing about him. He does things that shake entire structures of society. He finds himself at the center of everything, without ever trying to do anything other than help someone. Sometimes I wonder what John would think if he were still here, how proud he’d be of his kid brother.” I grimace a little. “I just wish it wasn’t always something that could get the damn kid killed. Sometimes it’s noble. Sometimes it’s just stupid. It’s a fine line.”
June smiles gently at me. “Noble. Sometimes stupidly so. At the center of everything because he’s always trying to help someone. It sounds to me like he takes after someone I know.”
I grin a little at that. “I did what I had to do.”
“You do what you believe is right. Always. And doing what’s right tends to be hard.”
I look at her. “You aren’t exactly a conformer yourself, Ms. Iparis,” I say, turning to face her directly now. “I think the Republic has a few things to say about that.”
She smiles again and looks away from me to the view beyond the window. I know she’s thinking about her brother now. “The Republic’s changing slower than I would like. Anden’s doing his best, but the politics of it all makes me impatient.” She runs an idle hand through her hair, and the gesture reminds me of another forgotten memory, of her fingers through her shining ponytail, the hair hanging long past her shoulders.
My thoughts return to her life, and how she has learned to steady it. I clear my throat awkwardly and stare down at my hands.“Hey,” I say quietly. “Can I ask… what made you and Anden decide to end things?”
June’s quiet, and for a moment I think I’ve overstepped. But then a faraway look crosses her face. “I don’t know how it gradually fell apart,” she finally replies. “But there was one early morning that changed everything. I remember it because the light coming in through the window was so beautiful, the purest light I’d ever seen, just painting a golden stripe against my arm.” She smiles a little at that. “I got up, walked to the window, and admired the most stunning dawn I’d seen in a while. And you know what? All I could think about was that I didn’t want to share that moment with him, because I didn’t think we would be admiring the same thing. And then I wondered whether that was strange, to not want the person I loved to be beside me.” She looks down. “I think both of us already knew, though. I moved out pretty soon after that.”
I don’t really know what to say. All I can think about is that I would’ve given anything to share a moment like that with her. But I don’t tell her that. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” I finally answer.
She gives me a wry smile. “Hopefully not too sorry, though.”
Her words send a ribbon of wild hope through my veins. I laugh in embarrassment, afraid to think about the possibilities between us. “Okay, fine—not that sorry. But I’m glad you’re both still friends. You’re the one who pushes him forward, anyway. He’ll always take your advice. You can see it in the way he’s always turned toward you, waiting for your opinion.”
“Yeah, well,” she replies, “my advice isn’t worth much if we can’t act on any of it. He’s doing his best.” We’re quiet for a few seconds.“Even after everything we’ve gone through,” she adds, “after all the war we’ve both seen, there are still so many things wrong. The work never really ends, does it? It just shifts to something else.”
My gaze wanders to the glow of the city against her skin, to the soft waves in her hair, to her dark eyes. “Maybe,” I say softly. “But there are constants to anchor ourselves to.” I hesitate, almost too afraid to say it. “And you are mine.”
We’re very close now. June blushes, and my heartbeat quickens. I can’t remember whether I felt this exact way when we were young, whether moments like this felt like an electric current humming beside me. I can’t imagine reacting any other way to her.
“Daniel,” she whispers. “I…”
