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It doesn’t.
“Who gives it to him?”
Ryven doesn’t open his eyes. “I told you. A nurse.”
“Which nurse?”
“How the fuck would I know? I was on Calder, standing in a bedroom, convincing a very angry man to get in a car.”
“You told me you packed his bag.”
“I did. Then I put him on a ship with Seren and stayed behind for you.” He lifts his arm from his face. “Do you know what I did for hours in that flat? Sat in your bedroom with the lights off while that little old woman with the keys came in looking for Onyx. Then some even older man started shouting from the landing. Then apparently the whole fucking building needed to know what was happening.” He huffs a laugh. “I’m still impressed nobody opened your bedroom door.”
I frown at him. “You asked who’d be taking care of him.”
Ryven gives me a look. “Obviously. I’m not putting your brother on a ship without knowing who’s looking after him. Two nurses, a doctor who knows graylung, enough oxygen to get him there twice over, and pressure monitoring. I checked everything.”
“Everything?”
“Everything.” His mouth tilts. “Including whether either nurse looked like they might flirt with him.”
I sit there with my mouth open.
Ryven points at me. “You’re going to want to close that.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
His grin widens. “You and Ash are going to make such a fucking good couple.”
I huff and look away toward the window. There’s nothing to see out of it.
Ryven has dozed through half the crossing, boots on the seat opposite and his arm over his eyes whenever he decides the rest of us have become boring. The rest of the time, he wanders the ship, somehow learning everyone’s name before we even clear the second jump. He plays cards with the crew, charms a steward into sneaking him extra desserts, and comes back every few hours with another story that ends in laughter.
I let him. A talking Ryven is exhausting, but a sleeping Ryven is the closest thing to peace this ship has offered me.
Waking from another nap, he drops back into the seat across from me and rubs a hand over his face. “You’ve been awake the whole way.”
“I’ve seen what your family does when people aren’t paying attention.”
He laughs. “Light. You really are perfect for Ash.”
“Fuck off,” I mutter, turning back to the window.
For three days I’ve tried to leave the question alone, but I can’t anymore. “My brother can barely cross a room without stopping to breathe. He’s sick. He needs help with things he fucking hates needing help with, and even if you really can fix all of that...” My throat tightens. I swallow against it, staring at the black outside the glass because looking at Ryven would be worse. “Onyx is gentle. He’s always been gentle. Soft. Sweet. He worries when people raise their voices, even when they’re not talking to him. He needs someone to tell him things twice when he’s scared, and to pretend they’re not doing it because he’s scared.”
My eyes burn as exhaustion and three days without him finally catch up with me. “You know all that?”
“I know exactly what he has.” Ryven takes his arm off the seatback and leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Ask me what you’re really trying to ask.”
“Have you touched my brother?”
His mouth twitches. “Not unless he asks nicely.”
I snort before I can stop myself. Then I picture Onyx beside him, dwarfed by Ryven, and the laugh dies as quickly as it came.
Watching my face change, Ryven lets his grin fade. “No. I haven’t touched him, and I won’t unless he asks me to.”
“Yeah.” I rub both hands over my face. “That’s the correct answer.”
