Page 126 of The Space Between Stars

“Kotar Avelius. A captain in the Green Wing, at the time.”

The Green Wing was charged with the protection of the internal State—guarding the Ruxians before they guarded the oligarchy. Why would a Green Wing captain aid an operation that had left the capital vulnerable?

“I was as enraged as you,” Mastico said.

The mute’s face didn’t move, but something changed behind his eyes.

Niklaus passed his tongue over his sandpaper lips and translated.

There was pain on Mastico’s face that Niklaus did not believe could be fabricated—but he had been wrong before. “When they revoked Androtia’s assets and cast you out, I-I looked for you. I intended to bring you all to live with my family in Seraphinden.”

Calver signaled; Niklaus translated, “So why didn’t you?”

Mastico frowned. “It was like you vanished into thin air. I imagined the worst: that you’d been murdered, taken and sold on the dark market. We searched Kaidech for months. Calisto led it. He was always so close to your family. He—”

Calver’s hands slammed onto the table so hard, Kian reached for the handle of his dowaga.

Niklaus struggled to follow his furious signals. “He says he studied under Calisto for six years after his father deserted. He saw him every day.” He’s calling you a liar, Niklaus didn’t say.

Kian spoke up. “I’ve had enough of this, father.” The elder Mastico raised an eyebrow. “This man is playing you like a kwitra with a frayed string, wearing you down until you break.”

Mastico’s response was less a question and more a command. “Explain.”

“Think about his claim: that he is Thadinar Curtaim’s son, an idea that you gave him, for the record. That, despite the weeks during which an entire squadron searched for the Curtaim family, they were in Kaidech the entire time. That somehow, despite the Kaidechi population being decimated by the Strikapa, he was spared?” Kian shook his head. “You want so badly for this man to be a Curtaim that your ability to reason has been compromised.”

“And what benefit will come to him for pretending to be a Curtaim?” Mastico challenged.

“Your cooperation. This man is a murderer. He’s set to stand trial in Seraphinden! If that weren’t argument enough, simply mind who he keeps for company.” Kian pointed an accusing finger at Niklaus. “My men report that he has been working closely with Meyernes for three ten-days. Meyernes, who set fire to half the southern rim just this morning.”

Niklaus sniffed. “I’d hardly call it half. Six—maybe ten—wagons, really.”

“He tried to convince me that an Aetech shield had exploded when I interrogated him,” Kian continued. “That they’re a conspiracy. Meyernes is still trying to get his insurance money. And he’s hired this criminal to get under your skin so that he can convince you of the same fantastical tale.”

The table fell still. All eyes turned to Calver, whose brown stare betrayed nothing. Chaos. If he looked death in the face, death would be first to blink. Niklaus had warned Calver. I warned him not to involve him. He opened and closed his mouth a half-dozen times, words failing.

“Your silence speaks,” Kian said with satisfaction, leaning backwards with his arms crossed.

Niklaus gritted his teeth. Maybe, with Calver’s testimony, the Major General would actually believe them. Maybe there was another way to prevent this ambush.

His father had said that there were two kinds of hope: the reasonable kind, and the kind so crazy one dared not think on it, lest they frighten it away. Maybe, this thousandth time he told the truth, it would fall on ears that translated reason. Maybe, this thousandth time he told the truth, his words would be not a weapon, but a shield.

He licked his lips and prepared himself to do what he did best: he removed the cork, upended the bottle, and let the words flow.

CALVEROUS

Despite the coolness of the command tent, Calver’s skin burned with betrayal.

He juggled the things he knew with the things he didn’t. Calisto had helped to cover up the truth that Calver had learned only months ago in Chira’na—that his father had died bringing the last Ruxian heir to Methu’su. Raimee had been told to stay away from the Nelfinden oligarchy, despite her legal claim to the throne. Thacklore had suggested that the oligarchy covertly ousted the Ruxians—that Methu’su was involved.

And his father…? His father had deserted following an account sent by Blue Wing courier. This had Deshpian Thacklore written all over it. Thacklore had given the Red Wing false information, leaving them vulnerable to Chori attack in Casowhatan. Thacklore—obsessed with obtaining a Ruxian—had led Calver’s father into an ambush when he’d brought Raimee to Methu’su the first time. And when Thacklore discovered Calver’s identity in Chira’na, he’d called him a conduit.

What was a fated conduit?

Calver let the anger billow around him as he weighed the need to know and the repercussions of getting his answer. The scales slowly tipped, and he did what he’d sworn never to do again many times before.

Come. He impressed the summons with such vehemence that it echoed through the void.

The world dilated and slowed until Calver felt its presence blossoming from the depths like a dark flower. It filled him, numbing him. The comfort of its familiarity appalled him. Calver clenched his fists, clutching at his slowly slipping purchase on his headspace.