Page 137 of The Space Between Stars

How many conduits had Cul’Mon bred? How close was he to reaching his mark?

And if he succeeded…?

No—more than bile. She turned from Calver and spilled the contents of her stomach in the corner of the room, steadying herself against the wood planking of the wall. Calver was writing again. He put the pad under her nose without concern for her state.

If you knew what he was capable of you would have let me take the dive.

Fankalo squeezed her eyes shut. He thought she was reacting to the fear of Cul’Mon tracking them. True, every moment they kept Calver with them, he was a liability to the crew. But were he to go back to Cul’Mon, he would be a liability to all of Nelfindar. All of mankind.

Calver kept writing. I want nothing more than for us to be together again. But it is too dangerous for you. He won’t ever stop.

He had no idea. Kretch. She leaned her head against the wood of the hull. He had no idea why he was special.

A tear came to her eye. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. She was supposed to find him and throw a celebration. A feast. Drinks. Dancing. Her father was supposed to be there. He would have invited Calver to join their crew in an instant. Then Calver would have helped her in her quest to find Methu’su.

The daydream faded. Calver crouched, clutching his head. He rocked. Then he started to moan, his spell of near-normalcy ended. She couldn’t tell him. Not while he was like this. It would push him over the edge.

“I won’t let him get you,” she said. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. She’d thought it one thousand times now—her older brother was supposed to protect her. “We’re going to send him running. We’re going to do it together.”

Forced valiance. There was no other option. The Nelfindens had no preventative plan against the Tera’thians. If she and Calver didn’t find a way to fight back—if Cul’Mon succeeded—Nelfindar wouldn’t stand a chance against him.

THIRTY-THREE

CALVEROUS

Year: 748 Post Cataclysm: Present Day

Location: Jiradesh Desert

Calver startled awake with a coughing, hacking gasp.

He controlled his lungs again.

He controlled his mind again.

A fleeting scan of the memories he shared with the Survivor confirmed he hadn’t killed anyone. Knees curling into his chest, he nearly sobbed with relief. A cool breeze billowed against the flap of whatever dark tent he was in, caressing the overgrown hair on his face. Across from him, moonlight flashed over a stand stashed with medical supplies.

Someone had tended to him. As if he didn’t have enough problems.

Chaos knew what they’d seen that would make an even bigger mess of things. Not only was it clear he’d spent time in the Terath’ian state, but the Survivor could surface at any point. If he hadn’t needed to get out of this encampment before, now it was paramount.

Calver shuddered and washed his mind with a void mantra. He slowed his breathing. Only then did he realize his pain was gone. In fact, his back felt better than it ever had. Better, even, than before Cul’Mon had…

Calver’s heart plummeted.

See me? Before the sun rises. The infirmary tents behind the command row.

Kretch.

He rolled over.

A body cloaked in sleek, white fabric occupied the only other cot in the infirmary tent. Unmistakable curls mirrored the moonlight. Silver eyes locked onto his. Raimee lobbed him a weak smile.

“You got my message, then?” As if it was her best witticism yet: seeing possible futures and writing preemptive notes which made them look like passing coincidence.

He could have signaled anything. Anything at all.