“We were just talking.”
“Exactly,” I echoed. “We were just talking.” Why was I getting so worked up about this? I was sure that if I told Val the truth about Sian, he’d help me. He always hated playing by Dad’s rules. “He’s just—”
“You know what, you’re right. Never mind,” he replied dismissively, and offered me one of the drinks. “Thirsty?”
“Thank you.” I took the drink, and we excused ourselves from the dance floor and took up residence by the bar. He swirled his drink and took a sip. His was sweet wine. I didn’t remember him ever liking wine. I eyed the scar above his left eyebrow and wondered how he’d gotten it. A fight? An adventure?
Wherehadhe been?
I asked him as much.
“I’ve been trying new things,” he replied, dodging the question as he leaned his back against the bar, the picture of ease. “You know, different places, different jobs. Sort of trying to see what I like. The ship looks the same,” he added.
“We had to replace one of the thruster banks last year,” I supplied, “and Dad’s thinking about upgrading the navicomputer.”
“Of course he is. Whatever he can do to keep you from wayfinding, huh,” he replied.
“It’s for safety.”
He inclined his head. “Have you always been this contrary?”
“Every day of my life,” I confirmed. “Have you always been this dodgy?”
“That’s new,” he replied with a wink.
I smiled, and he mirrored it. It was the closest we ever came to looking like Quay siblings.
We stood there on the edge of the party, not quite sure what to say next, for the rest of the song. Three long years separated us. Three years when he had explored the galaxy while I stayed on this ship of grand tours and distinct itineraries, and he refused to tell me about any of it.
Instead he leaned against the bar and asked, “So what have you done these last three years? Get into any trouble?”
“I don’t get into trouble,” I replied.
“Any boyfriends? Girlfriends?” He went on digging. “Anyone I need to have a talk with who broke your heart? Say the word, and I can show them exactly what I’ve learned out there in the galaxy.”
“That sounds like a threat.”
There was danger in his smile now. “It’s more like a promise.”
I snorted. “No boyfriends. No girlfriends. No one, really. I’ve just been here.”
To that he sighed and whined, “Arie, really? You never escape this cage?”
I stiffened. “It’s not a cage.”
He scoffed. “Of course it is. He likes to control everything—especially us. Ever since Mom died. Why do you think I left? I don’t see how you can stand it.”
“Well, one of us had to stay, and you made your choice,” I replied coldly. “Unless you’ve returned to save me from our terrible, awful dad who welcomed you home with open arms? What do you think Dad’d say to that?”
He drained the rest of his wine. “Why don’t we ask him ourselves?”
As if on cue, the pulse of music stopped. Then Entoo played a jingle as the captain stepped into the main chamber. He waved at everyone and hurried to the other side of the bar, where he climbed on a stool with one long stride, then onto the counter itself, taking a flute of wine from the bartender.
“Good evening!” he cried, turning to his guests with all the flamboyance of a showman.
I settled back, waiting to hear the same First Night speech I’d heard all eighteen years of my life.
But it was not the same.
