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“In my apartment? No, I hadn’t planned on being there,” Castor replies. We all know he could easily have a five-course dinner with his parents any day.
“Fine. He can stay for food.” Nico moves through the apartment to the back hallway. The sooner we get Nico to stop being so damn frustrating... I pause. This is the definition of a paradox. I glance at the kitchen.
“I’ll make something. Go talk to Commander Crankypants.” Eros moves around the counter.
Belle follows me, but I shake my head. “Let me talk to him.” And by talk, I’m considering using my fists instead of words.
The shower is already running, so I just strip my clothes off. I’ve been in enough scuffles with Nico. I’m not giving him something to hold on to.
“What?” He turns. But it’s not what I expect, not at all. There’s water on his face—and not from the shower.
“Are you?—”
“Shut up.”
“Right.” I nod and turn on the other shower head, pretending like I wasn’t coming in here to give him a talking to. He lets the water run over his shoulders, not moving.
“You want to talk about it?” I know the answer is a resounding no. But if Belle has taught me anything, it’s that you have to ask or you don’t get the answer you’re looking for.
“I try not to think about her.”
Now I’m the ass because I know the “her” he’s talking about is Richeal, but I can’t stop myself from saying, “Who?”
“Mother. Our mother. She’s your mother too. And my whole damn life, I thought of her as only my mother. And that was fucking wrong. And if I was wrong about that, what else have I been wrong about?”
“Nico. You’re a good brother. You were a good commander. We’re both the way we are because our society is fucked. The fact that you can realize it... yeah. You’re okay.”
“Alder did the best he could. Muster too. They did the best they knew how in their grief.” Nico looks at the ground and back at me. “And you turned out better.”
I bite back the “true” on my lips. “What else do you think you’re wrong about?” I’m pushing. Belle doesn’t want me to say it. But then it’s just a question.
He turns and walks out of the shower without taking a towel. I grab a couple, following him out, jogging to keep up with his long strides.
35
NICO
“I was wrong. That’s not something I’m going to say again.” My insides shake. They match my hands. I put my fists on my hips to steady them. Water drips from me. There’s a giant puddle around my feet. But I don’t care. I don’t care about anything but the people in this room. Fuck, that’s a lie too. I care for lots of people now, far beyond my fathers. I don’t know when it started, but the list has grown long.
Little Krill was right. I stare at her. No one has moved. They’re all looking at me like I’ve grown tentacles. I’ve become like Muster: hard, solid. But Little Krill, my Moon and Tide, she’s taught me that soft is good too.
She’s right. Of course she’s right. I didn’t want Castor in our pod because... I’m not good enough. It’s not Little Krill who would hurt his chances of becoming king, it’s me. But it’s not me. It’s not any of us.
My mother’s letter... It reminded me of how short life is. She was young. Younger than I am. She had so much she wanted to do. My fathers too. They had love and podlets. It was ripped away from them. Little Krill deserves happiness. Holter, Eros, and Castor do too. A voice in the back of my head says, And what about you? Do you deserve happiness? You’re not good enough to be happy.
I’m hurting them, both of them, because of my own doubts, my own stubbornness. They’re not moving. Their mouths hang open like koi waiting to be fed.
“Did you not hear what I said? Fine, I will say it again.” I clear my throat. “I was wrong. I love you. I love all of you, and I will not intentionally hurt you again.”
36
CASTOR
“Excuse me?” I say, blinking at Nico dripping on the floor. We’re all stunned. But me more so. Annabelle said he would come to his senses, but I didn’t believe it.
“I said it. Twice. Do you really need me to say it again?” Nico takes the towel that Holter throws at him.
“You... are agreeing?” Annabelle cocks her head at Nico, taking the towel from him and running it along his chest. “Should we vote again?”
