Chapter 26
ROWAN
Ican't get away from him.
Ever since the Black Chapel, there hasn't been a single place left that actually feels like mine.
Not in the conservatory, where he keeps appearing outside the practice cubes, leaning against the glass while Halvern criticizes my technique like Ciaran isn't standing there distracting me on purpose.
Not at the pool either.
I tried hiding there yesterday because it was quiet. Ten minutes later, he dropped into the water hard enough to soak half the deck before swimming straight for me like he already knew where I'd be.
Then he spent the next hour touching me, brushing his hand over my wrist beneath the surface or letting his fingers slide across my waist whenever he passed too close behind me. And afterward he just looked at me with that smug, heated expression like he knew exactly what he was doing to me.
He probably did.
That's the problem with Ciaran. He walks through Caervast like the place belongs to him, and somehow one look is enough to completely ruin my ability to think straight for the rest of the day.
Like right now.
When he asked if I wanted to go for a ride on his hoverbike, I didn't think to refuse. Not after the first time he brought me back through the city with me clinging to him the entire way.
I'm the one who suggested leaving campus, mostly because I needed to get back into the capital and think without feeling trapped inside Caervast's walls. Ciaran apparently hears let's go somewhere and translates it into hoverbike.
At least he made me wear the leather suit he shoved into my arms before we left. Thick black synth-leather reinforced at the joints and built for riding. He'd have gone out half-dressed if I hadn't glared at him until he put proper gear on too.
The bike lifts. Not forward, up, straight off the stone until the courtyard drops away under my boots and there's nothing beneath us but forty meters of air and the gates shrinking to a pale line.
“Ciaran.”
“Mm?”
“There's no ground.”
“There's never any ground, mouse. You just usually don't look.”
He tips us into the lane and the city arrives all at once on our right, glass and gold falling away toward the water, the lit windows sliding past at eye level instead of somewhere overhead. Another bike crosses beneath us close enough that I feel the wash of it through my boots.
“You're gripping.”
“You're forty meters up.”
“Sixty.” He sounds delighted about it. “Look down.”
I don't want to look down. I look down. The lower districts move under us in a slow river of neon and wet stone, tiny and orderly and entirely too far away, and my stomach drops in a way that isn't fear.
Then he takes us higher, out of the lane and up through the gap between two towers, and for three seconds there's nothing on any side of us at all. Just black and the planets hanging over it and the whole of Sero turning underneath.
“Still with me?”
“Yes.”
“Say it properly.”
“I'm still here, Ciaran.”
His hand leaves the grip, finds mine where it's fisted against his stomach, presses it flat once, and goes back to the bike.
On Düren you only ever see anything from underneath.
The Ward wall, the freight lanes, the towers over the processing yards, all of it above you, and you spend your life looking up at it through dust with your neck aching.
I've been on this planet for weeks now, but I've never once been above anything.
Now the whole of it is turning under my boots and I can't work out whether the feeling in my chest is vertigo or something worse.
He climbs again. Glass gives way to older stone and layered rooftops spread across the hills below while ribbons of traffic thread through the darkness like rivers of light.
Above us, planets hang massive against the night sky, their reflected colors spilling across the clouds while distant transport lanes burn faint lines through the dark.
He brings us down onto an upper platform built into the side of an old structure overlooking the city. Sero stretches beneath us, all light and shadow and impossible height.
The engine dies and neither of us moves. Below us the lanes keep running in their slow bright threads, and the wind up here is thin enough that I can hear the metal of the bike ticking as it cools.
He swings off, steadies the bike, and holds out a hand, waiting to see what I'll do with it.
I take it.
He pulls his helmet off and shakes his hair out of his eyes. "I've been thinking about it. Luneth and I got off to a rough start, and I've decided it was her fault."
“It was entirely your fault.”
“You should play for me again tonight. Let me prove it.” Before I can answer, he catches my hand and starts walking. "I come here sometimes. When I want people to stop talking. Or when I want them talking.”
I snort at that.
“Oh, come on, mouse.” He bumps his shoulder against mine as we start walking. “You dragged me all the way out here for something.”
An incredulous laugh escapes me. “Me, dragging you? You practically kidnapped me."
“Mm, perhaps I did." His eyes flick toward me. “But some things have been on my mind. Honestly, my life was kind of boring before you arrived on Sero.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
He shrugs, looking amused. “Before you arrived, I was just admired. Now I'm admired and desired. It's exhausting, really.”
I elbow him in the stomach and he doubles over, feigning hurt while he cackles. Before I can retaliate again, he catches my wrist and pulls me closer. His lips are warm and soft on mine.
One hand snakes around my nape, holding me close. “What are we digging for, baby? What are they digging for?"
I have enough room to turn and let my gaze wander over the city's magnificent view. “Remember the first time I sat on your bike?”
He pivots impossibly closer. “You mean the first time I had to save your ass?”
“You didn't save—”
“Mouse.”
I exhale, nerves swirling in my stomach at the thought of opening up to him. "I found something in the library. A lead, I think. And I wanted to…go and check it out.”
His expression hardens. “What was it? That district isn't somewhere you should be after dark.”
My fingers tighten around the helmet. “Remember I mentioned I'd lost something? … It isn't a something, but a someone. My sister, Sola.”
“Sola.” He tastes her name in his mouth, and I can practically hear his unspoken questions.
But I have some myself as well.
Why did you hunt me down when I went to the Black Chapel? Why did you have to be the one who could control my attacks when even I don't know how to control this failing heart?
I swallow, but the words won't come out.
I can't tell him about the photograph. About Halvern. About Sola standing beside people she never should have known, looking like she'd belonged there for years.
Even though I want to.
But the second I do, I'm admitting I trust him. And I still don't know where the Virels fit into any of this. Whether they're helping me find Sola or making sure I never do.
Ciaran looks at me for a long moment. “Okay.”
I blink. “Okay?”
Reaching into the hoverbike storage compartment, he pulls out a bottle before leaning back against the railing. “Mouse, I can see that mind of yours spinning. What makes you think she's here?”
The photograph. Tell him about the photograph.
He takes a swig before holding the bottle out toward me.
I stare at it before taking it reluctantly and swallowing a small mouthful. The burn hits, twisting my face before I can stop it. “Because I did some research.”
Amusement flickers through Ciaran's eyes as he watches me before reaching over and taking the bottle from my hand, lifting it toward his mouth. “Mm... and what did you find?”
I stare out over the city. “I just...”
“You don't want to tell me.”
He leans back against the railing, one boot hooked over the other while the city lights slide across the sharp line of his jaw and the dark of his eyes.
I still haven't gotten used to looking him right in the eye. Maybe I never will.
“You're staring again,” he drawls.
It's overwhelming when he looks at me like that for too long. Like there's nowhere left to hide. Maybe that's what unsettles me most. The fact that some stupid part of me wants to hold onto this a little longer.
I look away, which only seems to increase his amusement.
“Okay,” he says after a moment. “So you don't want to tell me why you think she's here, but you're looking for proof that she is.”
“I think someone wants me to believe she is." I stare out over the lower districts instead of at him, neon bleeding across the wet streets far below the sky-bridge.
“That's not the same thing.”
“I know.”
He stays quiet beside me, one arm draped over his bent knee, leather creaking whenever he shifts. Somehow, he still looks completely at ease after turning my entire life upside down. “What was she like?”
The question catches me off guard, and my throat tightens. “Loud.”
“Not like you, then.” He chuckles when I kick his boot.
He's right, though. “I didn't need to be. She used to talk enough for both of us. She never got scared first. I did. But she always looked out for me.”
I shouldn't be saying this. I still don't know what Ciaran's connection to any of it is, but I'd found photographs that placed Sola beside people she never should've known.
And if Sola truly is somewhere on Sero, then there must be a reason she hasn't come near me herself.
That's the part I can't stop thinking about.
“Mouse.”
I realize too late that I've gone quiet again.
“You don't have to tell me everything tonight.” Ciaran's hand shifts beside mine on the railing, close enough that our fingers almost touch.
My throat tightens. Maybe because I've spent so long feeling hunted that I still don't know what to do with someone standing beside me instead of closing in.
Ciaran glances toward me, then knocks his knee against mine. “This is why I brought you here. It's the best view on the ports. On Sero, we have both lower and upper ports. Impressive, right?” He adds, when he catches me gawking, “Mom used to bring me here, before she lost her sight.”
My fingers curl around the railing as Ciaran keeps his eyes on the city below.
“She used to sit here for hours with the Noctis.” One hand lifts toward the horizon where ships move through streams of light.
“Writing music. Watching the ports. Keeping track of business. She would look at traffic patterns and tell my father which companies were moving too much freight or who was getting nervous.” A faint smile touches his mouth before fading.
“Dad says she never really stopped after the attack.
Even now, she still asks for the old folios sometimes, like she's looking for something she misplaced years ago. "
I stare at him. “Your mother did that?”
A low laugh leaves him as he pushes one boot against the railing support. “Mouse, my mother scares people.”
I shake my head, looking back out over the city.
“The attack.” Ciaran drags his thumb slowly over the bottle in his hand. “For some reason, I've been thinking about it lately. Dad got me out, but Mom stayed behind.”
The city blurs beneath me.
“He still blames himself.” He rolls the bottle between his hands before looking back toward the lights below. "I think I do too.”
I turn the helmet over in my hands. I've never thought much about other people's problems. Most of my life has been surviving, staying quiet, keeping my head down long enough to make it to the next day.
Ciaran nudges his shoulder against mine. “Tell me something, mouse.”
I glance at him.
“Say Caervast never happened.” His hand lifts toward the city. “Where do you end up?"
I stare out over the lower districts while dawn bleeds gold across the glass towers below us. “I don't know.”
Ciaran flicks the empty bottle out into the disposal chute beside the platform. We're not flying anywhere for a while yet, and I suspect that was the plan all along. “Bullshit. Everyone wants something.”
I watch the city a moment longer. “Maybe somewhere quiet.”
He turns toward me, grinning. “Quiet? Really?”
“Yeah. Maybe I'd have a music studio or something.” I shift one shoulder. "Somewhere people will leave me alone long enough to work.”
“That's the saddest dream I've ever heard.” He shakes his head. “I'm adding things.”
“You don't get to add things to my imaginary future.”
“Too late.” He leans against the railing again. “I'm already furnishing it.”
I should probably be looking at the view too. Instead, I keep looking at him. The early light softens the edges of him, turning something dangerous into something far harder to leave behind.
I still haven't figured out how someone can look dangerous and unfairly beautiful at the same time.
The thought of leaving him someday lands somewhere inside me.
This can't last forever. Whatever this is. Him and me.
The strangers following me. Sola's presence, or my delusions. Every answer seems to lead me back to the same handful of questions, the threads tangling together tighter and tighter until it feels impossible that any of this is coincidence anymore.
So maybe I can be selfish a little longer.
“Ciaran?”
“Mm?”
“What's the thing you don't say out loud?”
“That I'm still the kid on that pavement.” He says it to the skyline rather than to me. “Everyone thinks I got past it. I didn't. I just got taller.”
Hearing the weight behind the words, I recognize the look on his face. It's one I've probably worn myself for years.
So I don't push. Instead, I drag my thumb across his knuckles until his fingers tighten around mine again. “Accidents happen. You can't spend your whole life blaming yourself for them.”
He doesn't answer, but tension settles across his shoulders anyway, and maybe that's the problem. I already know how to pull him back, and the worst part is that I don't think I'd hesitate.
A kiss against his jaw, my fingers threading through his hair, a look that says I'm still here, and he'd come back to me every time.
And maybe that's what scares me.
Because somewhere along the way, Ciaran stopped feeling like someone I would eventually leave behind. He became the person I look for without thinking, the one I reach for when something hurts, the one I keep choosing even when I know I probably shouldn't.
He became my Zoryan.
And I still don't know what to do with that.