She quirks her head. “This isn’t some twisted way to get back to him for good, is it?”
“Honestly? It was. But it’s not anymore.” She shoots me a look, but all I feel is relief. Now both Sig and Weston know what I had planned, but they also know that I no longer feel that way. Camp isn’t my home anymore. This ship is, at least while I’m in Dawnlin, but more than that, it is the people that I care about who have been harmed and wronged. I won’t leave them, and I will do everything to help every Voyager who walks through that portal.
My shoulders slowly rise under her hard stare, all the explanation tumbles from my mouth. “I may have overheard you trying to convince Weston of your plan to send me back, and I thought I could use that to get back to them. I told you aboutthe dust because I wanted you to send me back faster, and I just wouldn’t return.”
She crosses her arms, obvious annoyance written across her face.
“I know, I know.” I sigh. “But that was before, and now I know the truth. I don’t want to go back. Not for good, anyway. Only long enough to get the dust from Dane.”
“If you’re fucking lying to me, I’ll come after you myself before he even can,” she says, her eyes narrowing, and I know exactly who she is referring to.
I roll my eyes. “Sig, do you think I would tell you if I was going to stab you in the back? I’ve had enough of that from Mara.”
She huffs a laugh. “What made you bring this up again? Why now?”
“Taril said something yesterday that got me thinking. He told me that since I left, Dane has been…different. Erratic. Emotional. We’ve already seen it both times we ran into him on the island. That isn’t at all how he was with me, and it makes me think there’s something more going on. I’m worried the dust is almost gone, and if we don’t get it now, we’ll lose the chance for any of us to get back.”
Her eyes glaze over as her focus drifts away from me.
“I need your help, Sig.”
She snaps out of her daze and her eyes meet mine. “What should we do?”
Pushing off the door, I cross the room toward her. Now that we’re actually thinking about this, I really don’t want anyone to overhear. “You need to convince Weston to let me go back,” I whisper.
She shakes her head. “He won’t listen to me. I’ve tried.”
Sig is the only one that can challenge Weston, who pushes back against him and who he actually listens to. After hearingabout how they met, how they were thrust into a friendship based on survival, it makes sense why she is the one who can do that. But if he won’t listen to her on this, will he listen to anyone? To me?
“Did you ever have any other plans?”
Edmond always taught me to exhaust all options when strategizing an attack, and despite this being the easiest and most direct way of getting that pouch from Dane, I still want to know if they have ever tried anything else.
“Everything we’ve come up with has always seemed too risky. Sneaking into camp has never been a possibility. Capturing Dane hasn’t either. The problem is, he never takes it off. So someone literally has to get close to him, and we can’t.”
“But I can.”
The pit in my stomach feels like it is going to swallow me whole. I am the only one who can getthatclose to Dane, close enough to touch him. I’m the only one who can get him to let his guard down enough so I can take it, hopefully, without him noticing. I’m the only one who he’s trusted with the knowledge of replenishing it, the only one who could bring up the dust without seeming suspicious. But I’m here, and I can’t do any of that from this ship.
Her face is somber. She knows it is the truth, and that the fate of every one of us trapped on Dawnlin lies in my hands.
“We have to convince him to let me try,” I say.
“Maybe you can. He won’t talk to me about it anymore. He says he just wants to keep looking.”
I nod. “I’ll work on it.”
I don’t know how I’ll convince him, but I won’t be able to live with myself for eternity if I don’t at least try, because unfortunately, if I don’t soon, I risk losing my chance. If Weston can keep holding on to hope of finding the dust, I can hold on to hope that he will listen to me.
“Good. The faster you can, the better,” she says.
“What are we going to do when we get it? How are we going to decide who gets to go back and who doesn’t?”
She shakes her head. “We’ll worry about that when we have to. Right now, we just need to focus on getting that pouch.”
My stomach somersaults as I think of everyone on this ship who deserves the ability to return home. All of them should be able to see their families again, and hopefully the person they came here to save. Trying to decide who to send back will be one of the hardest things I’ll ever have to do.
Bile sears the back of my throat and nausea overtakes me as I realize exactly what would happen.
