Chapter 33 #2
"I'm just going for a walk," I said with a wave as Celravi stood to follow. "Maybe I can catch a glimpse of what those pilots look like under their armour before they go. I mean, you've got to wonder. Well, I do."
Araxis's head turned, and I could see the smile hooking his mouth. "And you're well enough to walk?"
"I'm good," I promised and I winked at him from across the room and then headed out.
The children were chattering away in one of the communal spaces, and I craned my neck as I passed: Thodin and Yalrinn were with them, and I heard Adrathi trying to pronounce the word tarantula as we passed, so I assumed they were still sorting through Valerie's books.
Cute. Did anyone keep spiders as pets? I didn't think abaya had pets, but maybe that was something to consider.
In the cargo hold, I wound through the maze of containers to the airlock where Val's sleek ship was tucked away.
The airlock was open, so I could make out some of the ship beyond: its interior was dark and glossy, like something out of a techno thriller on broadcast. It looked like a ship that a military might have for stealth missions.
Which it couldn't be. That was impossible.
Then again, what did I know about Val's rifle-loving pilot and what their life had been like before they'd somehow fallen in with a human organization? I knew they did jobs across the galaxy. I knew they sometimes had to chase people through sewers.
Maybe a life of crime did pay.
I heard a scuff behind me, so I was ready when the gentle punch hit my shoulder. "You look better than I thought you would," said Val, her voice crackling through her gleaming helmet, which, although it was shiny, eerily reflected nothing at all.
I hadn't been sure, when we'd stopped on Anhihan Station to meet with our chikaari pilots, if Valerie Prior would make a convincing alien pilot from a species known to be reclusive and self-serious.
And yet, in the polished armour that she wore from head to toe – which was very fucking expensive, I knew that much – that matched with her actual chikaari pilot, I found it almost impossible to remind myself that there was a human under there and that she was sometimes a lot.
She'd been silent, her movements efficient as she and the other pilot attached their ship to ours, moving through our familiar halls and then calibrating our stromic engine so that we could twin the vessels to produce a higher quality bubble for the burn.
I shrugged. "I have a good skincare routine," I intoned. "You know, I like to start with a blood mask..."
She laughed, which was generous; it wasn't actually funny.
And then Val's head tilted as she studied me.
"Last chance, Sashen. If you've got cold feet, we could always smuggle you out of the empire to somewhere with a bit more glitter and grime.
" The added layer of distance between her words and my ears meant that I couldn't tell if she was cracking a joke or being serious – maybe it was both – so I chose to believe the former.
"I think I'm bringing plenty of each with me," I said, bumping into the hard polymer of her power armour with my shoulder.
She didn't even have to adjust to keep her balance.
Maybe an armour corps would sponsor our wedding and we could each get a free suit.
I'd have to ask Silver Sea. No one would be able to stab either of us through armour; the nicer models deflected a lot of blaster fire too, which sounded helpful.
Not, I thought somewhat desperately, that we'd need to worry about that again. Probably.
"I'll send Elethenn out," Val said. "He holed up pretty quick in one of the bunks. And good luck with all of this. I don't envy you."
"I don't know," I said, breezy despite the sudden tightness in my chest. "There's a lot to be said for this life. I've got a space prince all to myself. And shoes that fit. There's even a fucking bathtub in our quarters. I mean, really – does it get any better?"
And while I was making it into a joke, I knew the truth of the matter: I didn't think it could get better, not for me.
I had power and status with Araxis, and a type of freedom – certainly not any less than he had.
And we were living all of this together, figuring it out every day, doing something important.
So now I just had to find a way to keep all of it.
But if I could white-knuckle my way to survival in the arena, if I would claw my way free from Seraphim and carve out a life despite the impossibility of my circumstances at fifteen, then I sure as hell could manage this.
I knew how to survive. I knew how to make a silk purse from a sow's ear, and Araxis was the farther possible thing from a consolation prize. He was everything.
I was exactly where I wanted to be, I reminded myself. This was it, the labour of my choosing.
Val tapped my shoulder again, and then ducked inside of the ship with a very human wave.
I only had to wait a few minutes before Elethenn stepped out of the glossy interior of the ship and into the airlock where I was waiting.
His stare was pinned somewhere near my boots as he stepped toward me, stopping an arm's length away.
His hands were folded carefully in front of him, head tipped down, and that quiet, reluctant posture gave me time to really look at Elethenn again: the scar that ran the length of one side of his angular face; the shock of his white eye; the pained twist of his mouth; the startling contrast between the white of his skin and the black of his crest, tied in a knot as always.
I wondered, distantly, if he felt like he deserved a braid.
I wondered if he'd ever ask anyone to braid it for him.
When it became clear that I wasn't going to speak first, the silence between us growing longer and more pointed, Elethenn made a pained sound, as if he'd tweaked a sore muscle. "You wished to see me?" If it was possible to make those five words sound any more miserable, I'd eat my non-existent hat.
"I wanted to say goodbye before you left," I said, still watching him.
He was wearing his usual jumpsuit, plain, a little worn, but carefully mended.
It said a lot about him that he'd kept it the whole time.
He could have bought new clothes; Araxis would have paid for them.
But he hadn't – was it because he didn't feel deserving, knowing how he'd already failed Creche Thiel, or because he didn't think he was deserving because of who he was?
There were layers to his shame, I knew that.
I hoped, with time, we might be able to build something like pride in him too.
"I know, we're all supposed to pretend you don't currently exist, or whatever.
But you do, and you're my friend, and you're going far away and it's going to be a long time before I see you again. So."
He exhaled softly, fingers flexing where they were tangled together. "You are too kind," he said, except he said like my kindness might actually break him, like he didn't want it at all.
"Everyone fucks up, Elethenn." I didn't want him to go to Sol thinking I still hated him, because I didn't. I couldn't. I could be furious and almost understand why he'd done what he'd done and still want him in my life.
I'd done it before. And it was that thought that made me add, "And if I can forgive Araxis, I don't see why I can't forgive you.
You fucked us over, but at least you weren't also literally fucking me when you were being a sneaky little shit. That's your loss, though."
A shocked sound slipped from his throat, nearly a trill. "Sashen, you are impossible," he said, almost exasperated, and I found myself grinning at him.
"I hope you know you're going to be very popular in Sol. I mean, come on: a hot stoic alien fighter, and he can cook? You'll be fighting off suitors from every side." I watched him flush, watched as that replaced some of his misery, which was exactly what I'd intended. "Oh, and by hot –"
"I understand what you mean," Elethenn said, silver.
"You just remember that I'm your favourite human," I continued. "I know it'll be hard, given the array of options you're going to have. I bet you'll even meet some likely arkathi."
He shuffled his feet a little, his stare dropping down again, hands flexing.
"Ah, you do not need to worry, Sashen. You will always be my...
favourite." He paused, and then cleared his throat, a tight subvocal humming beneath his words.
"I know that I have not yet earned your forgiveness. You offer it too readily."
I shrugged, pretending my chest didn't ache as I looked at him. "I offer everything readily," my mouth supplied without thinking. Elethenn flushed even more, which made my smile hook up at one corner, pleased.
Although –
"I really do have to tone it down, don't I?
" I asked, sobering. "Now that we're here.
I can't just say things like that. It's a problem, right, that I say things like that?
That I'm – like this?" Because who else could I ask?
He'd heard it all and he knew, better than almost anyone, what I was like when I wasn't trying to be a perfect virra, composed and demure at Araxis's side.
Elethenn's chin shifted up, and he blinked at me, finally meeting my gaze.
His eyes were narrow, but the angle was thoughtful.
"It's – No, Sashen, you are not a problem.
You are unexpected and… unconventional, but you are a treasure.
It became clearer every day that I spent time with you.
I am certain many abaya will be charmed by you, and those who find you…
" He struggled, searching for a word or phrase that wouldn't be insulting.
"Too much?" I suggested. "Trashy? Inappropriate? Shameful?" The last two words in abayan were probably the best descriptors, even if they made my stomach clench.