13. Old Friends
OLD FRIENDS
TALIA
The Pentarchy enforcement corps brought order to the western territories. What it displaced to do so—the informal codes, the frontier courts, the uneasy truces between religious and secular factions—was largely lost. No one who valued what came before had the power to write history.
The door to the Flux she just wasn’t interested in some random wrangler. Did she want him? She laughed at the thought, but her heart fluttered when he nodded. She didn’t have a whole plan, but she figured she could start by buying him a drink. Apologize for snapping at him back at Starfall.
She started toward the bar, tilting her shoulders to squeeze through the press of people. She was almost there, just past the first table, when the door creaked open.
“Tally!”
She stopped. Only one person would use that nickname. She turned, her stomach twisting.
Holloway Sennett stood in the doorway, backlit by blue flux streetlights. Black uniform, perfectly pressed. Green cloak with three silver pins. Slowly, he set a small suitcase and his harp case onto the floor and straightened back up. His eyes never left her face.
Her hands and feet prickled, and she felt dizzy. He must be here to arrest her. He must know about the rebels. The journal.
He was smiling that same crooked smile that used to dissolve her anger.
Her childhood best friend. The man she’d been engaged to.
He was here in Gateway, crossing through the saloon, angling through the crowd to get to her.
Now his smile was breaking into a full grin.
When he reached her, he slipped his hands under hers and squeezed.
All his emotions hit her. Joy came through first—bright, sharp, spreading up her arms. Relief next, cool in her chest. Then desire, sparkling and familiar. She couldn’t breathe. She wanted to pull away, but it felt like everyone was watching.
“I looked everywhere,” he was saying. “The docks, the Consortium offices—”
“What are you doing in Gateway?” Her voice came out thin.
“I was reassigned.” Joy kept crackling through his touch, like static. “There was a captain position open.” He kept squeezing her hands. “And I missed you.”
Her chest felt tight. He wasn’t here to arrest her. Knowing Holloway, he would do everything he could to keep her safe. It didn’t feel so different.
Velvet materialized beside them. Talia had never seen the owner of the Flux & Fiddle look so flushed and flustered. She was tending bar tonight, and it was packed.
“Talia! Who’s this handsome thing?” Her hands grazed Holloway’s arm.
“Holloway, this is Velvet Fawkes.” They were jostled together by the crowd. “Velvet, this is—”
“Her fiancé.” Holloway’s smile widened, and he extended a hand.
Technically true. She’d never said yes. But then, she’d never said no. And she was still wearing his bracelet.
Velvet shrieked. “Everyone! Talia is engaged!”
The saloon erupted into cheers, and glasses crashed together. Talia looked back over her shoulder. Riven was still at the bar staring at her. His jaw went tight, and he set his glass down hard.
Velvet ushered them to a corner booth, taking Talia by the shoulders and jostling her through the crowd and into a cushioned chair. Holloway settled beside her, too close.
“First round is on the house!” Velvet came back with a tray of amber liquid. “Liethi. Gateway’s finest.”
Dawn showed up, sliding into the booth across from them. “So, you’re the fiancé she forgot to mention.”
News traveled fast, apparently.
“Holloway Sennett.” He shook her hand. “Are you one of Tally’s friends?”
“I’m Tally’s riding coach.” Dawn’s grin sharpened. “Working on loosening her up. Maybe you can help me out?”
Talia groaned. She picked up a drink and started sipping before anyone could toast. The liethi burned deep in her chest, like whiskey but hotter.
The redheaded wrangler from the corral joined them, and she introduced herself as Ruby. It was more than crowded now. Holloway’s hand felt for hers under the table, but she reached for another drink.
Holloway stood. “Let me buy the next round. It’s the least I can do for showing up uninvited.”
When he returned, Cannon was there and already grumbling. “Damn enforcers everywhere. No offense, but Gateway used to be a free place.”
Dawn piled on. “The Pentarchy aren’t too popular here, I’m afraid. How’d you end up with a green cloak anyway?”
“Trust me, I know,” Holloway said easily. “Enforcers can be real pricks. Present company included.” That got a round of laughs. “I guess I thought I could help people.” He looked at his drink. “Fix the system from the inside.”
“Sorry to say, it ain’t fixed.” Dawn looked at him thoughtfully.
“No, ma’am.” He met her eyes. “These days, I’m just trying to do the least harm I can.”
Dawn nodded. Lifted her glass. “To the least harm.”
They drank.
Talia watched them warm to him. She should have been charmed, too, but she could feel Riven’s eyes on her every time Holloway touched her arm.
The Flux & Fiddle was one of the classier saloons in town.
She’d never seen it this rowdy. But word had gotten out about an engagement party, and liethi was flowing.
Someone had pushed the tables back from the fireplace, and a growing crowd was dancing.
A glass shattered somewhere to wild applause.
The flux lamps pulsed brighter with each beat.
“Dance with me,” Holloway said, grabbing Talia’s hand and tugging her onto her feet.
His hand spread across her back, warm through the fabric of her blouse. His affection rushed through her, spreading up from her waist. It was too much. She couldn’t catch her breath.
Over Holloway’s shoulder, she saw Riven. Still in the corner. Watching her spin. Watching her lean on Holloway’s arm. Velvet tried to tug him onto the floor, but he waved her off. The song kept playing. The room spun, and not just from dancing.
“I need—” She tried to pull away and stumbled.
Then Dawn was there, supporting her. “My turn.”
Dawn was shorter than Talia, but she had no trouble holding her up. Dawn’s emotions were sharp, controlled—a constant sweep for danger, brief sparks of joy. She smelled like leather and something sweet. Like burned sugar.
“Your eyes are glazing over, professor. You in there?” Dawn sounded concerned. That’s not very Dawn-like.
“I’m fine.”
Holloway was dancing with Velvet now. It wasn’t any formal dance Talia had ever seen. They were spinning each other by the elbow, and everyone was cheering. Having fun.
Riven was still in the corner. His eyes flashed and he leaned forward. Her body responded, heat coiling low in her stomach. Dawn spun her around. Held her at arm’s length and noted where she was staring.
“Shit, that’s not a good idea. Let’s get you some water.”
The piano had stopped. Holloway was moving toward the front of the room. When had he gotten up? He pulled a chair closer to the fire, and the crowd quieted.
Then he opened his battered instrument case. A rosewood harp gleamed in the firelight, its edges worn smooth by years of handling. He paused to tune it, head bent, the motion precise and unhurried. He settled it against his shoulder and started to play.
Conversations died. The crowd froze. Dancers shuffled to the edge of the room, glasses held midair as the entire saloon held its breath.
The melody thrummed in Talia’s bones. It was their song.
He’d written the music, and she wrote the lyrics.
The Divine Navigator leading the Twelve across the Green Sea was an old story.
The foundation myth was usually about creation and hope, but this version wove in the bittersweet theme of the home they’d left behind.
She knew every note before he played it.
They looked not back at the fading shore.
They broke the ships for timber,
Raised their city beam by beam
Spoke words they had to borrow.
Revered as gods, their tears are salt,
Their dreams trail out behind them.
The tongue they borrowed has no word
For what they have abandoned.
So, raise your cup for the home they lost
The books they could not carry,
Who built new life from the bones of the crossing
For just one more tomorrow.
She’d written those words in the dark months after Cordon died, and she hadn’t heard them in years.
The room had gone still with shared emotion—that peculiar sharp-edged awareness of being alive that follows gutting loss.
For once, the feelings she absorbed from the crowd were the same ones she felt.
Perfectly balanced. The pressure in her chest eased.
There was just one wrong note. Holloway’s love for her ricocheted through the room, and it carried a message: Come home. Be safe. Let me protect you. When the last note trailed into silence, everyone was clapping.
“That was something Tally and I made together,” Holloway said. “We used to dream about charting the stars and exploring the world, just like the Divine Navigator.” He looked at her. “You made it here. I’m so proud of you.”
In the corner, Riven’s chair scraped. He dropped a stack of coins on the table with a jarring clatter that echoed through the quiet room. Talia tried to catch his eye, but he didn’t look back.
The party was winding down. Cannon had long since left.
Dawn and Ruby stumbled out together, and Holloway was slumped over the table.
Talia helped him stand. His arm settled heavy across her shoulders.
She didn’t know where else to take him except up to her room.
They climbed the stairs together, and after struggling his way through the door, he collapsed into the armchair.
“Who is he?” Holloway asked, leaning back and closing his eyes.
“Who?” She worked his boots off his feet and then brought a blanket over from the bed.
“You know.” He waved his hand. “Beardy bun head.”
She barked a laugh. “What did you just say?”
“That big man in the corner, with the bun and the beard. He was staring at you all night.” His words were slurring badly.
Her face warmed. “Oh. I’m pretty sure he hates me.”
“No one could hate you, Tally.” Holloway was fading. “You’re so smart and beautiful. And tall. And smart.”
She laughed again. “You’re drunk. We can talk in the morning.”
“But you like him. Does he make you happy?”
“He makes me feel like I’m my own person,” she said. He wouldn’t remember this in the morning. “Not just Marionette Salaren’s heir.”
“And I make you feel safe.”
“Go to sleep, Holloway.”
He tried to say something else, but the words didn’t come together. He just fell asleep.
That’s when she noticed her desk. By the gods. She had papers everywhere, half-translated Starscript, piles of notes from the journal. She slid everything into the drawer, turned the key, and slipped it into her pocket.
Holloway stirred in the chair. The man who’d crossed an ocean for her.
At one point, he had been her best friend.
Her safe space. He could destroy her career if he saw half the notes that had just been sitting on her desk.
It would be too risky to join Lore’s expedition now that Holloway was here.
She climbed into bed, and the key dug into her hip.