Page 134 of The Space Between Stars

Relief flooded her. Her lips pressed together so they wouldn’t tremble. She lifted her chin and set her thoughts on vengeance: what the Tera’thians had done to Calver. What she wanted. How she might get there. The sacrifices she would have to make, and Mitek too.

“I need you to think about this. Seriously, Mitek, because I don’t plan to cross the ocean. I plan to go past the horizon.”

“Well then.” His jaw jutted, and a trace of his usual cocky self glinted in his eyes. “I guess I’ll just have to pack us each a pair of fucking wings.”

THIRTY-TWO

FANKALO

Year: 740 Post Cataclysm: 8 Years Previously

Location: North Sea

Two ten-days passed, during which Calver never left the room. Life aboard the Rogue’s Rapture settled into a state of semi-normalcy. Fankalo took eight-hour rounds at the helm, trading off with Drogus and the navigator. The crew had started arguing and laughing and singing again. Following a tip-off at port in Seraphinden the week prior, they pulled off their first heist since she’d taken the title of Captain.

It was one of the best hauls they had ever brought in. Nearly every interaction she’d had with the crew since glowed with their approval. That gave Fankalo more relief than pride. She had no doubt she could run this ship as a perfect echo of Captain Keane. What she doubted was the fragile egos of men. She still kept her father’s dagger on her at all times.

When Fankalo woke, the sun had already stretched midway into the sky. That was normal—she preferred the highsun shift. What was not normal was the absence of a large body from the floorboards in front of her door.

Fankalo launched from her hammock and stumbled into boots. She darted from the room without bothering to lace them, half expecting to hear blood-curdling screams. She reached out with her Luck, sure that disaster would flood the threads of possibility. But the world around her had all the turbulence of a drought-drained lagoon. And Calver’s spark had appeared in her mind again.

She slowed as she climbed the ladder through the hatch. The breeze across her cheeks helped to carry away her nerves as she surfaced to the main deck. All was well. She just needed to find Calver and—

He was as impossible to unsee as drunken Cam without pants on.

He was at the bough of the ship: shirtless, planking his body across the rail, doing pushups, running about, kicking, flailing, punching. Her mouth opened. He just kept going, steady as the damn tide. Several other crew members watched. Some pretended to be busy. Others openly gawked. Calver didn’t seem to notice.

Fankalo spotted Mitek at the center mast, sitting on a stack of cargo crates, rolling calamus and datura into paper. He also studied her brother’s erratic movements, amusement painted across his face. She stepped beside him, then back to the crate below him, trying not to think about the blood that had been spilled in this space not long ago.

“How long has he been…”

“Doing that?” Mitek’s brows rose, and he flipped his long mane out of his eyes. “An hour. Maybe three?” He lit the end of the paper and pulled from it. “A really long fucking time.” They both ogled at Calver. The longer she watched, the more she felt like she couldn’t look away. “How much stimulant did you give him?”

A laugh bubbled from her throat. “I didn’t give him anything.”

“You’re telling me he’s doing that on jerky and pickles?”

She ran a hand through her cropped curls. “He hardly eats. Doesn’t seem to like food.”

“Chaos behave. That ent right.” Mitek passed her the paper and she took a long drag. Smoke curled from her lips to lift away in the breeze. A buzz blossomed behind her eyes, furthering her from the day’s initial anxiety. “I don’t think he’s slowed down once. Your brother is a creature.”

Drogus stepped up beside them. “Rapture’s all yours, Captain. We have a nice pull coming from the east. Should hit port in Seraphinden by highsun.” He frowned at the paper between her fingers and snipped it from them, throwing it to the boards to smother with his boot. “A twelve-year-old girl should not do these things.”

That had to be the most violent thing she’d ever seen Drogus do. “Kill-joy.”

Drogus patted her on the back with a hand so large it nearly winded her. “Your lungs have many seas yet to sail.”

Fates, how she loved this man who respected her as an adult but fought to preserve her childhood. She looked at Calver, still at the bow, who had moved on to slicing at phantoms with the blades of his hands. It was a childhood she was learning more and more to appreciate, considering what might have been the alternative.

She crossed her arms. Perhaps it was a sign he was improving. What else could she do to help rehabilitate him?

“Actually, Drogus, I need another few minutes, if you would?”

“Of course, Captain.”

She gave Drogus’s arm a squeeze and stepped to the center of the main deck, gaining the eyes of several of Calver’s onlookers. “Ay!” she belted. “We’re not getting any closer to port this way. Back to stations!”

The crew obeyed. She fought to restrain the corners of her mouth from looking anything but firm. Even Calver faltered, his brown eyes meeting hers from the crouch he’d fallen into.