There’s a warmth in her voice that curls up nice and tight in my chest. Like,of course, she doesn’t think anything else would suit me more—not an iota of doubt.
Liz, apparently unable to mind her business, bounds back towards us with a grin. “Are you gonna tellherthe name?”
It makes Marlowe’s whole expression open, her eyes aglow. “You already have a name?”
Immediately, I want to tell her, but I can’t with Liz hovering like a gnat. She was the one who told me it was bad luck to share, and now she’s trying to con it out of me. But Marlowe is full to bursting with excitement, and regret seeps in.
Suddenly, it starts to feel like too much at once. The way Marlowe’s looking at me is heavy on expectation.
“The captain’s being coy. Maybe she’ll tell you later.” Liz winks.
The two of them fall into a back-and-forth that I tune out. I use the opportunity to try and settle myself. Why is Marlowe so confident in me? I’ve done nothing that warrants it; Vee was abducted under my nose, everyone was injured in the swarm, and I seriously considered leaving theCravencrew behind.Maybe I’m kidding myself, and theKyenais never going to be more than an idea.
Pushing the negative thoughts away, I focus on the task at hand. Physical labour is good. Physical labour is productive.
We get into such a groove that we work through lunch, and complete two days’ worth of repairs. Mid-stretch, Marlowe finds me over Liz’s head. She gives me a thumbs-up and then does a little shimmy.
“Smoothing and shaping tomorrow.” She grins. “Hopefully, with the help of this legend.”
Liz snorts and shoves at her shoulder, which would be disastrous if we didn’t have our gravboots activated. I don’t know how they’ve managed to become so friendly, so quickly. Then again, Liz is prone to leaping from topic to topic apropos of nothing, so there’s that. Once again, I’m amazed by Marlowe’s ability to infiltrate just about anyone’s defences. Perhaps she can crack Julian next.
We clear the airlock just in time for dinner. A vicious rumbling churns my stomach acid the entire walk to the galley, and all I can think about is food. But I falter in the doorway, having momentarily forgotten how many bodies would be around the table. Marlowe breezes past me and leans over Vee to take a huge bite of his pizza. Whilst mother and son bicker, Khrys gives me a discreet thumbs up—the story our guests told us checked out. With Beau elsewhere, I’d asked her to investigate. It’s a weight off my shoulders.
“Pizza?” I ask Devyaan.
He points salad tongs at Julian, who stands at the counter with a ridiculous apron on. The man is built like a slab of concrete, so it’s a comical sight. Devyaan grins, eyes glittering. “The white boy wanted pizza.”
If Julian objects to being scapegoated, he doesn’t say so. If anything, he seems to cut into the fresh dish with a little morecare. I raise my eyebrows and aim them at Devyaan, but he shoos me away. As quick as he is to throw out kind words and a smile, he’s as private as I am.
“Sit. Eat. It took ages to make all of these; I don’t want to see a single slice left.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I wash my hands and slot in between Khrys and Vee, reaching for a plate so I can pile it high. After a day like this, back aching, I want to eat until I’m ready to burst and then go to bed. But I look around first to see if our chefs are seated too. They’re curled up over the counter, eating straight from the tray and talking so quietly I can’t even hear a murmur.
Marlowe leans over Vee to press her lips to my ear. “Mum!” he scowls, but she swats him.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” she whispers, darting a pointed look at Julian and Devyaan. It is a sweet picture.
Maximus walks in, so close to Beau, they’re practically wearing each other. I’m surprised by the serious expression on Beau’s face when we make eye contact. Beside me, Marlowe frowns, and I know she’s noticed it too. The volume in the galley dips and Maximus detaches himself from Beau, heading towards Julian, whose voice is a low murmur.
“Max,” Beau says. The man stops in his tracks. “I’m going to have to tell them, okay?”
At this, Julian snaps up, gaze shooting between the two. I pause, hyperaware, wondering if I need to intervene. Did something happen?
Julian steps towards his brother, but Maximus holds out his hand. A wry smile skates across his face. “I understand.”
Beau claps a hand to his shoulder before looking over, back to wearing that trademark smile, like muscle memory. “Max is blind,” they say. “But holy shit is he good at navigating as if he’s not.”
The galley falls into silence before Khrys drags out the word, “Oh.”
Maximus smiles softly, heading for the table. He takes a seat, and the action is so smooth that it’s obvious why no one noticed his blindness before. What I saw as graceful movement could becarefulmovement. When he turns to look at a person speak, he does it with his whole body; his gaze so intent, you’d never know.
“Did the gold make you blind?” Vee pipes up.
Marlowe looks mortified. “Vee, a little tact, please.”
“It’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with children asking questions, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Yes, unfortunately,” Maximus says. “It was still a relatively new procedure, and there were complications.”
“So why do it?”
