Page 139 of The Space Between Stars

He hummed in mock irritation.

Raimee’s grin only widened. “I like the sound of her—or, ah—the signal.”

He snorted.

“Sounds like a dream.”

Raimee’s fingers reached for his. He stared at them for long seconds before letting them lace between his. He had to know for sure. He focused on not letting that electric tingle of power flow into him. He thought about the opposite: about pushing it back into her.

Futile.

The soft drain of everything that kept Raimee living trickled into him. Calver pulled his hand free. He’d tried. The Fates could never look at him and say he hadn’t tried.

“Do you miss her?” Raimee asked.

Fankalo? Always.

Something twitched in the side of Raimee’s face. He could tell she was working up the courage to suggest something impossible. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to hear it.

“I’m supposed to be with you.”

Calver gritted his teeth.

“If it means that we’re together, I’m more than willing to give. I just need to find a more efficient means of self-replenishment than time alone. I couldn’t distort anything until I met you. I haven’t figured it all out, but I’m sure that—”

She shook her head, a motion so weak it pained him. “That’s ridiculous. What do you call me taking those out of you?” She lifted her chin beyond his shoulder.

On the canvas floor behind him black blood, slippery as the night itself, glistened off a half-dozen pieces of metal in the low light. They were like tanka bits, but hooked in every direction. He hadn’t laid eyes on them in nearly a decade, and the sight made his eyes burn. Those were what had made him give up.

The Survivor unfurled. He hated that it had come back. Hated it.

Void.

Raimee’s voice brought him to the surface. “And let’s not forget the birds in Chira’na. And the tree.”

It would keep coming back. It could control him any time it wanted. He was a liability.

“I’ve been practicing distortion for nearly two moons now. I’ve had to resist every moment of my second sight pushing me towards you—not easy, thank you very much. But it’s telling me to talk to you now or die painfully. I distorted the fabric of the desert to get to you. And I incapacitated the guard that was outside of this tent.”

The Survivor’s presence disappeared. Calver blinked twice.

“Well, how else was I going to get in here?” She shook her head at him like he was a simpleton. “Look, I just need someone to teach me how to not use my energy to distort with. That’s why we need to go to Methu’su.” Raimee paused before whispering, “Back in Chira’na, when you said you were coming with me I—” Her voice quavered. “I’ve never felt like that.” Neither had he. “You’re the only person I’ve ever met who’s just treated me like I’m normal.”

Wrong. She was wrong.

He could tell her.

He could tell her that, from the moment they’d first touched, he hadn’t been able to think properly. For months, he hadn’t had a single alchemy of the mind that wasn’t chased by her: the way her nose crinkled. The way she laughed. The way her lisp never left his ear. The small warmth of knowing her heart beat close by him where, for years, there had been nothing.

He could tell her how horribly and infinitely she’d mangled him, and that he didn’t want to be fixed. But he didn’t.

Raimee frowned. “I think preventing you from contracting sepsis is reasonable.”

Calver rose to his feet.