He studied me with those strange, otherworldly eyes. “You’re so sure, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You’re naive.”
“No, I look athistory—”
He blinked. “History? Which version of history? Oh, the history where special magical Jedi defeat evil with their special glowing swords? That history? Or the one where normal everyday people quietly fade away until they aren’t even echoes of a whisper of a name?”
My mouth dropped open. Eloquent and cutting—if I wasn’t so furious I’d be impressed. “Han Solo’s a normal guy! He—he wasn’t a Jedi or a special person.”
Sian rolled his eyes. “Oh, the smuggler who did the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs?Thatguy?”
“Fourteen,” I murmured.
“Twelve,” he argued.
“He was normal—”
“Oh, comeon, Starlight. Youknowyou don’t believe that. Normal people don’t get stories told about them, because they’re the ones who die. They’re the thankless ones who let the Han Solos make Kessel Runs, and get picked off in skirmishes, and lose their parents in senseless massacres.” He flipped the rock up again and caught it in his hand. And then again. And again. Like a coin. “They’re children who become slaves and getbrainwashed into being soldiers. They’re mentors who die before they ever finish their life’s work. You don’t talk aboutthem. I guess they aren’t history, right? They’re the fodder.”
When I was sure he was done with his rant, I pinned him with my gaze and asked softly, “So which of those happened to you?”
He caught the rock one last time, surprised. “What?”
“Which of those happened to you?” I repeated calmly.
For a moment, hurt fractured his face, and then he quickly schooled it. He barked a laugh. It was strange and sharp. “You’re funny.”
“If my family’s legacy is ajoketo you, then you can leave. Right now. I’ll space you myself.”
He held the rock up. It shimmered in the dim lights, with veins of metal melted into it. “Thismakes it a joke, Ardent Quay. These stupid little stones. They’re not even useful for picking locks.”
Then he dropped it into my hand, turned, and left for the galley again. I saw red. Of all the selfish, awful,infuriating—
I threw the rock at him. It hit him square in the back and clattered to the deck.
He stopped in his tracks and spun back to me, looking stricken.“Really?”
I pulled myself up to my full height. “Really!”
His eyes glittered with a challenge. “Violence, Starlight, is never the answer.”
“I don’t know what else’ll get through that fat head of yours!”
“My head isnotfat.”
“And these rocks are notstupid,” I snapped, jabbing a finger at the Piece of Alderaan on the deck. “These pebbles were collected by Alderaanians. Every one of them costs fifty credits. The space station sells them to fund the agriculture center. My father buysthousandsof them so that you can enjoy the Starblossom Puget Veebee made for you. And ifthat’sstupid, then empathy is dead.”
Wordlessly, his gaze shifted to the pebble on the deck between us. A muscle in his jaw twitched.
“Empathy doesn’t bring people back,” he muttered.
“No, but without it, we lose them entirely.”
Silence settled between us. Noola looked between the two of us and chirped.
I took a deep breath, cooling my head. “Please go back to the galley. Everyone else will be coming down soon to their rooms, and I don’t want you caught. Let me deal with Val, okay? He’snota fascist and he probably just thinks you’re a stowaway—”
