Page 96 of The Space Between Stars

“Who?”

“You don’t think—”

They both spoke in unison.

“Calver,” Mitek growled, as she gasped, “Drogus?!”

Again, they spoke as one. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

If she could have cut him with her glare, she would. “It’s. Not. Calver.”

He held out a hand. “Bratty, let’s unpack this—”

“It’s not Calver!”

He held out a fist. A challenge, to see who would make their argument first. She brought her free fist to meet his. Her gaze locked onto his dark eyes.

They moved at first blink, fingers flying through a progression of shapes, one to mimic each of nine sea creatures from a childhood game of wits. Of course, when Fankalo could predict every creature Mitek planned, victory was skewed in her favor. To keep it fair, the game had long since devolved into a race. Whoever finished first would win.

Mitek.

“Your squid was missing a tentacle!” she snarled.

“This is not a time for you to be a sore loser, Brat!”

She crossed her arms and leaned back, sinking to the floor.

“It can’t be Drogus,” Mitek spat. “Think about what you’re saying. He’s risked his life for you time and again. He’s given us almost every piece of information we’ve used to our advantage. It would kill him to know you even suspected him.”

“Do you think I want to suspect Drogus? He’s—” Her words came up short. There was no term dear enough. “You know what he means to me.”

Mitek shook his head. “This isn’t going to be easy, but you need to look facts in the face. Calver spent six years working for the Tera’thians—”

“Enslaved by the Tera’thians!”

“Hear me out!”

She pressed her lips into a line.

“He’s been out of sight for a year and a half. You know why he’s been in on our plan all along. He doesn’t want vengeance. He just wants his fucking bastards out of the Tume’amic system. That’s no lie. We know they’re real. We just fucking met one!”

Met. Met. Like, “How are you today? Fine sailing weather” met. If she still had two legs beneath her, she’d kick Mitek where it counted. “Don’t you dare suggest—”

“And without your protection, Cul’Mon could have easily found him. Tossed him in a cell. Promised him their freedom in return for his happy cooperation. Think, Brat. Think.” Mitek’s words were ferocious. Fankalo’s pulse quickened in answer. Every beat was a stab into her broken leg. “The Ratka showed up at Tennca Pui and in Chira’na, and he didn’t give you an explanation for that? He’s never failed an assignment. Then this one, the most pivotal one, he fucks up. And then when you call him out to Steila, he ignores your request? He goes off the damn road, finds another fucking Ruxian, and gets himself captured, when he could have evaded it in a heartbeat. He could have blown up half that city if he wanted! Face it.” Mitek pointed a finger at her. “Your bro’s got another agenda, and it’s not in your best interest.”

She made to grapple him by the knees, animal mind forgetting her condition. The pain nearly blinded her. She fell sideways, a cry tearing from her throat as she hit the floor.

Mitek rushed to her. He lifted her, sat behind her, and pulled her to his chest. “Take it easy, hothead,” he said, voice placating in her ear. “I’ve got you. I’m not attacking you. I just needed you to hear sense, and that was the only way to do it.”

Anger simmered into agony. “It’s not Calver,” she pleaded.

“Ok,” he conceded. “It’s not Calver.” The tightness to his words said otherwise.

With a shuddering breath, she scooted away from him. He stood and stepped back, knowing the boundary he’d just crossed. How many more times would he put his toes beyond that line before she had to remove them?

“What do we do?” Fates, she’d never asked him that. She always knew what to do.

Mitek straightened. His hands balled into fists. “We find the rat and make him squeak.”