Page 97 of The Space Between Stars

Fankalo picked up Calver’s writing pad and flipped through its pages again. ‘Stay away from Thyatira’, Calver had said. Communication was not her brother’s strong suit, even when he had half a mind. He had tried in the only way he could. And she hadn’t listened.

Fankalo put her head in her hands until Mitek asked, “Did today’s meeting put you on to this?”

She rubbed at her eyes. “That and a little push of Luck.”

He cursed. “This is my fault. I encouraged you to accept Thyatira’s offer.”

“And I listened,” she snapped. “Nothing will be accomplished by martyring ourselves.”

Her ego had been too inflated. When she accepted the offer eighteen months ago, they’d just won the Pazirians’ funding. The world was eating out of their hands. But after the past few weeks, she had no choice but to look truth in the eye and see what she really was: a child, with fabricated legitimacy, pretending she could take over the world.

Their entire operation had been built on lies. Now they’d come home to roost.

As if reading her thoughts, Mitek clapped a hand on her shoulder. “If Thyatira’s chosen to cross the Queen of the Raiders, he clearly isn’t as smart as we thought him to be.”

Damn, but he made such a good show of it, she nearly believed again. Nearly. If they wanted to keep an ounce of their control, they would need to use sharper tactics.

She looked him in the eyes. “When Thyatira’s emissaries arrive, bind them. We’ll question them on exactly what sort of sabotage the Tera’thians have planned so we can get the information to Calver. Before the Red Wing hits Steila. We’ll need Drogus’s Tera’thian contacts to cross-verify.” She bared her teeth. “Then I want to send Thyatira a message he has no room to misinterpret. It only takes one man to carry a couple of heads in a crate.”

“You’re joking.”

She laughed, a thing more bitter than she knew herself capable of. “Joking? The opposite. We have an image to protect. It’s nothing compared to what he deserves. For what he did to Calver he—”

“Forget about fucking Calver! And think about your father, who would have stepped off-ship into shark-infested waters before he saw you break the codex.”

“Self-defense,” she argued.

“Decapitating an unarmed emissary is not self-defense.”

It always came back to the shratten codex with him. She could guarantee Thyatira didn’t follow a set of morals. “My father was never put in the position we’re in. With the number of people that depend upon us.”

“Who’s going to do it then? You? Me? One of the initiates? Because, good riddance, we don’t have your fucking Reaper to do your dirty work for you anymore. And I’m not in the business of slitting throats.”

“You forget your place.”

“No!” he growled. “To the contrary, I’m sticking to it, Captain.”

Captain. Not Bratty. Captain, said in the way that Gelhard used to. Like the title was a mockery. Because…

She was a mockery.

She’d failed Calver. She’d fallen into a trap even Mitek had seen through. She wasn’t a real Ruxian. She couldn’t even walk any more. She submitted to the burning behind her eyes, fat tears rolling down her face in a way they hadn’t since she lost her father. He would be so ashamed.

The hard lines in Mitek’s face eased. He pulled a canteen from his waist. Pinched moss from the discarded satchel. Pressed it through the canteen’s mouth, passed it to her. The metal was still warm from the water he must have boiled before returning.

He found the tin he’d entered with, where it had rolled into the corner. Kneeling beside her, he applied the salve around the edges of her leg brace. It smelled wonderful.

“Mitek, I—”

“I know you.” His voice was low. His eyes focused on his work and didn’t rise to meet hers.

She nodded, wiping the tears from her cheeks. No one else. She couldn’t let anyone else know her like this. And shouldn’t have let him, considering the way he’d been acting. “What happened in Solutium has me rattled.”

“You’ve been through it, true. I still know you wouldn’t have done it, given the knife. If I had to place my bets, the fucking Casowhatan would shrink before your heart did.”

If Mitek could believe that, maybe she could too. Despite every boast, every claim she made as the Shadewalker’s Hand, she’d still never killed in cold blood.

“Stop thinking about Calver,” he said. “It does this to you. Every time.”