Page 68 of The Space Between Stars

“This is the first time I’ve let my eyes off him all day. We’re pitched up just a minute away. I didn’t come until I was sure we’d be alone.”

Niklaus wondered momentarily if he was asking for proof, or because he wanted to kill Thedexemore in his sleep. He led the man through the maze of wagons and tents to where he and Dex had pitched tents for the night. Nerves chewed at Niklaus’s gut for a moment as he pulled back the canvas, but the boy was just as Niklaus had left him, sides rising and falling in easy slumber. The mute seemed more frustrated than satisfied—as though he would rather have a good reason to pummel the both of them. He pivoted and strode back to the wagon, Niklaus fast on his heels.

Inside, the mute’s nose wrinkled, and he looked pointedly at Niklaus’s hands.

He glared.

Niklaus had truly hoped to break past this dance of mistrust, but this was the closest he’d gotten to a differing perspective on the Commander Prime in a year.

The mute winced and held up a hand to stop him. He shifted closer, and Niklaus’s stomach clenched. It was like coming into contact with a lion—dangerous and exhilarating all at once.

“It struck me as odd, considering the prior limitations on the oligarchy’s martial funding,” he started, keeping his voice as low as he could manage. “Odder still that Thyatira’s name appeared on the entry roster at Aetech headquarters. Not once. Dozens of times.”

“He fights for Groundling rights. Aetech does the opposite. I’ve spent a decade uncovering corruption in the oligarchy and airing it out to dry. I know machination when I smell it.”

“No. I went looking for information on him. Came up short. Did you read The Groundling Papers?”

Something twitched in the mute’s face.

A year, and he’d finally discovered his target audience: conspiratorial criminals. “You know it wasn’t about Thyatira. It was about Aetech’s campaigning and Oligarchal manipulations against the Groundlings. But it did suggest that, with his undocumented background, Thyatira could just as easily be an oligarch—or a Tera’thian—as the Groundling he claims to be. And then—” He shook his head, too tired to tell the story again. “My life turned upside down.”

Lucky. In the months that had followed the Groundling Papers’ release, his mind had begun to feel crowded. He had thought a good clean-out might be in order: boxing it all up, moving it all out. A week in a ward had followed—all open windows and soft surfaces—after his mother found him. He wished he hadn’t been lucky.

“Technically, but I—” Time advanced, but the world around Niklaus regressed, shrank down to the singular thought that always returned, like a thrown stone to earth. Latouda?

“There was an accident.”

Clarity came crashing down. His marriage proposal aside, why would Latouda have been moved to a different house after two decades of service? Why would they have put her on a highmoon shift? Latouda had been able-bodied, not the kind to trip. A fall down a stairwell suddenly seemed impossible.

The mute waved a hand in front of Niklaus’s face.

“Repercussions…” He chuckled without mirth.

The mute’s brows lowered.

So, he did see right through Niklaus’s dependence. “I’m fine.”