We started scheming.
CHAPTER 14
Torian trudged back to theDestitute, feeling numb.
For a brief moment, she stopped by the puppies. To her shock, they gleefully handed her one, a wriggly little guy with floppy ears and golden coloring. Celise had always wanted a dog, but they weren’t common on Colony 13—only the super-rich could afford to keep them. Although she held it awkwardly, this one settled in her arms, a warm lump of sweet-smelling fur complemented by a wet nose and a cold tongue. Torian buried her face into the puppy’s fur, wishing Celise could have at leastseenRhymarra.
“Are you taking finals soon?” the student who’d handed her the puppy asked. “Or are you a professor?”
They were wearing another flowy outfit, but this one had loose slacks and a soft-looking linen shirt. It was also embroidered with leaves, which Torian was beginning to suspect was either a fashion trend or a uniform.
“I’m—just visiting.” She choked on the word.
“Oh, what town? I’m from Bayside.”
Torian couldn’t do this. She gently handed the puppy back. “I’m from Colony 13.”
The student’s eyes widened, and their hands tightened around the puppy almost protectively. “Acolony?”
The tone was aghast, as if Torian might twist them into something impure, just by standing here. It was both irritating and devastating. She suddenly didn’t want to talk with this lucky Rhymarran kid, who had educational opportunities and breathed clean air andplayed with puppies while Torian and Celise slummed around in a grimy space station.
“Thanks for letting me play with the puppy,” she whispered. “He’s cute.” And she fled, rejoining the tree-lined path, moving swiftly toward the docks.
She didn’t encounter Dess, the University representative, but as she neared theDestitute, another vessel caught her eye. It was sleek, black, and definitely not supposed to be here. And yet, Zenthielutos’s ship was perched adjacent to her own, stoic and silent.
Fuck. They followed her here.
He might actually pry this ship from me now, Torian thought.
She’d imagined exploring the galaxy with Celise and Moss, but—convincing Celise to come to Rhymarra had already been a struggle. Convincing her to leave everyone,everything, to visit new, alien solar systems in a starship barely big enough for one would be impossible.
Which meant that her sister would be consigned to Colony 13 for the rest of her shortened life. Torian would stay close, probably helping with the clinic when Celise’s breathing inevitably got worse. Moss would be trapped in yet another hangar, biding time until Torian’s obligations ended in a funeral.
Fresh tears streaked down Torian’s cheeks. She wanted to fight to keep Moss—but it wouldn’t have a better life with her. At this point, if it agreed to go with Dutch and Zen, she couldn’t blame it.
She just hoped they’d drop her back off at Colony 13 first.
As Torian approached theDestitute, the cargo doors slid open seamlessly. She climbed the ramp and stepped inside, but didn’t have the energy to talk about her failure. Not yet. She kicked off her boots and socks, letting her toes curl into a natural, spongy moss carpet for potentially the last time. Even from here, she could see Dutch puttering around her kitchen.
Well, his kitchen.
Feeling a thousand years old, she climbed the stairs and collapsedonto the worn couch adjacent to the kitchenette. “Hi,” she said quietly. “I’m surprised you found me.”
“Considering you told us exactly where you were going, and then we followed you here, I’m not.” Dutch sounded cheerful. He had found one of her prepackaged meals: noodles tossed in a cheesy sauce. Surprisingly, it looked and smelled delicious—Torian was vaguely impressed he knew how to cook human food.
But then again, nylarians were geniuses, so.
He scooped them into a bowl, then offered them to Torian. “I assume you’re hungry?”
She might never eat again. “No. Thank you.”
Dutch raised a bushy eyebrow. His cobalt eyes were nothing like the tou’siil’s—which sparkled with hive connection and were flat and dull without it. Dutch’s eyes were similar to a human’s, and they softened as a smile tilted his lips. His hair follicles glowed a steady blue now, which was oddly comforting.
“Rough day?”
Torian’s nose was stuffy from crying. She wiped it with her sleeve. “How much did Moss tell you?”
“Very little. I would not betray your trust,” Moss said overhead. “However, Dutch is competent at determining outcomes.”
