Solara couldn’t help laughing. “That does make me feel better.”
“Me too.”
“Listen,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
Now it was his turn to avoid her eyes. He fell silent for a while, fidgeting with his jacket’s zipper pull until he quietly cleared his throat. “I’m pretty sure I’ve got more to apologize for than you do. When I tried leaving you alone at that outpost, I had no idea what it’s really like out here. I hate to think…” He trailed off, peeking down at her. “But maybe we can call it even and start over?”
She nodded. “I’d like that.”
“Good. Then it’s settled.”
“And thanks,” she told him. “I owe my freedom to you. You don’t know me very well, but nothing means more to me than that.”
“Anytime.” His gaze moved over her face in a way that made her blush. “That’s what friends are for, right?”
Their eyes held for a beat of silence, and the mood shifted. Solara could swear she felt something electric pass between them. One of his hands still rested on her hip, and she became hyper-aware of its weight and its warmth. But then he seemed to take note of their closeness and stepped back. The moment ended so quickly that she wondered if she’d imagined the whole thing. She couldn’t decide whether to feel disappointed or relieved.
“Sorry,” he said. “I probably stink like a corpse.”
She cradled the propellant cell to her chest and inched toward the engine room. “I hadn’t noticed. The only thing I smell anymore is burnt porridge.”
“You’re never letting that go, are you?”
“Of course not,” she told him while striding away. “It’s my duty to give you hell. That’s what friends are for.”
Two hours later, when the Banshee was sailing smoothly once again, Solara followed the sounds of laughter to the lounge, where a party seemed to be under way. She walked inside and found the crew sitting around the holographic fireplace, leaning toward Doran to hang on his every word. He reclined in his chair, head tipped back with a gel mask covering his face, not that it stopped him from spinning a lively tale.
“And then,” Doran said, practically choking on a chuckle, “he told me, I like your spirit, boy. I’m going to try not to kill you.”
The captain slapped his knee and heaved a mighty guffaw that shook his chest. In response, Acorn climbed out of his pocket and scampered to his knee, then spread her furry arms and glided to the floor. “I bet he’s eating those words right now.”
“With a steaming side of crow,” Renny added, removing his glasses to wipe a tear from his eye. “I wish I could’ve been there.”
“Me too,” the captain said. “I’d give my fake leg to see the look on his face when you punched him in the short and curlies.”
“Who wouldn’t?” Cassia asked with a grin that transformed her face from fierce to beautiful. She should smile more often. “We’d make a mint if we got our hands on the video feed.” She elbowed Kane, who sat beside her, but he wasn’t laughing.
Unlike the others, he glared at Doran with an intensity that prickled Solara’s nerves. She had no idea what his problem was, but she didn’t like it.
“How’s our hero?” Solara asked while watching Kane. Their eyes met, and he must’ve sensed her apprehension because he looked away and offered Acorn a chunk of dried fruit.
“I’m fannntastic,” Doran called from beneath his mask, and thrust both thumbs in the air. He sounded drunk, or at least buzzed. “How’s our divorcée?”
“Still single, thanks for asking.” She admired his relaxed posture. “But I wouldn’t mind sharing a sip of whatever you’ve had.”
Cassia stood from her chair to check on Doran. “I gave him some painkillers before I set his nose. He’s still a little loopy.” She lifted his gel mask to reveal a nose splint, and right away Solara noticed the swelling had subsided.
“Wow,” she said. “Nice job. He looks almost human.”
“I can’t take all the credit.” Cassia pointed at a jar on the floor that seemed to be filled with squirming black slugs. “That’s the magic of camelback leeches. They drain twice the fluid in half the time.”
Solara wrinkled her nose. “Whatever works, I guess. I didn’t know those existed.”
“I knew the woman who bred the first pair,” Cassia said. “She was one of my teachers, and she passed along a few of her healing tricks.”
“Lucky for us.” Solara’s cheeks warmed with fresh guilt when she noticed a pile of bloody rags on the floor. “We really put your skills to the test tonight.”
“Hey, listen,” Cassia said, and pointed the gel mask at her. “Don’t beat yourself up over what happened with Demarkus. You’re not the first person to fall for that trick, and you won’t be the last. I should’ve warned you about pirate gifts. They always come with strings attached.”
Don’t beat yourself up. How fitting.
Solara changed the subject by asking Doran, “Can you stay on your feet?”
“I think so. Why?”
“It’s my shower day,” she said. “I never had a chance to finish, so my turn’s still open. Why don’t you take it? You can wash that dye out of your—”
Before she was done, he jumped up and scrambled out of the room, calling over his shoulder, “No take-backs!”
The crew laughed at his retreating form…everyone except Kane.
As soon as Doran’s footsteps faded into silence, Kane delivered a harsh look to the rest of the crew and hissed, “You know what’s going to happen now, right?”
“Yeah,” the captain said. “Demarkus will sound like a lady when he talks.”
Renny snickered. “Oh, to be a fly on the wall.”
“This isn’t funny,” Kane snapped. “The Brethren will come after Doran, which means they’ll come after the Banshee.”
“Why do you care?” Solara asked him. “You’ve already got the Daeva on your trail. Compared to them, the pirates are puppy dogs.”
“I care plenty,” he said, flicking a glance at Cassia. “The Daeva make up one squad, and we can avoid them if we lie low. But the Brethren are everywhere. All it takes is one person to report Doran’s location, and we’re screwed.” Kane turned to the captain and urged, “We have to drop him.”
“What? No!” Solara said.
“Whoa, there.” Captain Rossi flashed his palm. “We’re not dumping anyone.”
“Every minute he spends on this ship is a liability,” Kane argued. “Demarkus will find him. You know it. And I don’t have to tell you what he’ll do—”
“Hey!” Solara shouted. “You weren’t this worried about Demarkus when you served me up on a silver platter to save your ass.” She jabbed a warning finger at him. “We had a deal. I installed that propellant cell, and I can rip it out just as easily.”
“Everyone, calm down,” the captain barked, causing Acorn to scamper behind the nearest gaming table leg. “Nobody’s dumping our passengers. And nobody”—his eyes flashed at Solara—“is sabotaging my ship. Are we clear?”
She nodded, but Kane didn’t seem ready to give up the fight. He drew a furious breath while a muscle ticked visibly in his jaw. Gone was the seductive gaze and the slippery smile she’d come to expect from him. This boy looked capable of murder. Without another word, he stood from his chair and stalked to his quarters. The clatter of an object hitting the wall soon followed.
Cassia tugged on a dreadlock and stared after him. “Sorry,” she said, as if part of her job involved policing his behavior. “I don’t know what got into him.”
Neither did Solara. And that was a problem.
She was still puzzling over Kane’s outburst when she closed her bedroom door and bolted it for the night. No matter how many times she replayed their conversation, she couldn’t make sense of it. Maybe he and Doran had argued. That wasn’t a stretch. Doran could teach a class on the Art of Alienation. Or maybe Kane was just a jerk. Either way, Doran deserved to know what’d happened.
Foldi
ng both arms, she leaned against the wall and watched him toss and turn on his pallet of blankets, moaning nonsense in his sleep. She decided to tell him in the morning, after the pain medicine had worn off. Right now she would only wake him for one reason.
“Doran,” she whispered, gently shaking his elbow.
He stirred with a groan and pulled the covers over his head.
“Get up.” After throwing the blanket aside, she tried to lift his shoulders, but it was like moving a boulder. “Come on. I’m taking the floor tonight.”
“Hmm?”
“You can have the bed.”
One puffy eye opened. “Don’t tease me.”
“It’s all yours. You’ve earned it.”
That was all it took to lure him off the floor. In his woozy state, he needed some help scaling the mattress, but luckily the climb wasn’t too high. She swung his legs into place and tucked him in while he nestled into her pillow and made happy noises.
“Better?” Instinctively, she reached out to smooth his hair and caught herself just in time.
He hummed in response, already half-asleep, then mumbled, “There’s room for you.”
She glanced at the empty spot next to him, and a familiar tickle reappeared behind her belly button. He was right. They could share the bed. But that seemed like a dangerous idea—not because anything might happen between them, but because Doran needed space to heal. What if she rolled over and accidentally elbowed him in the face? She might rebreak his nose, or open one of his cuts.
No, she would take the floor. It was safer down there. For Doran.
The next morning Solara yawned and stretched, massaging the knots in her shoulders and feeling a twinge of remorse for all the weeks she’d made Doran take the floor when there was plenty of room on the mattress. She glanced over to see if he was awake, and he blinked at her with sleepy eyes.
“Sucks down there, doesn’t it?” he asked.
She ignored his question and looked more closely at him because something didn’t seem quite right. His facial swelling had decreased, revealing high cheekbones and allowing his eyes to open all the way. But despite that, his skin was pale and a sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead.
“No offense,” she said, “but you don’t look so hot.”
“None taken.” He rolled onto his side with an agonized groan. “You were right when you said I’d feel it in the morning.”
“Where does it hurt?”
“Where doesn’t it hurt?” he quipped, and glanced at the door. “Do you think Cassia has any more of those magic pills?”
“I’ll ask her.” Solara squinted at the dried cracks in his lower lip, threatening to split open again. “But first you need another coat of oil.”
Doran reached for the salve with one trembling hand, but he only managed to knock it to the floor. Since he was too weak, she picked up the jar and applied a thick layer for him. His dehydrated flesh drank the oil in seconds, forcing her to repeat the process and ignore how the slide of her finger across his mouth made her insides dance.
“All better,” she said, and before she realized what she was doing, she licked her thumb to erase a smudge of dried blood from his forehead. She didn’t know what had possessed her to clean his face with her spit. “I’ll go find your pills.”
She was halfway to the door when Doran cleared his throat and said, “Pants.”
“What?”
“You’re not wearing any.”
“Oh, good catch.” She grabbed her pants from the floor and pulled them on, more surprised by her lack of embarrassment than the fact that she’d flashed Doran her underwear. Funny how comfortable she’d grown in his company. When had that happened?
She padded on socked feet into the galley, where she found Cassia and Renny sitting alone, whispering over their coffee mugs, each unaware of Acorn creeping silently along the wall behind them. The furry sugar bear spread her wings and glided onto Cassia’s head, sinking tiny claws into the blond dreadlocks. Cassia let out a scream and splashed coffee into her lap while Renny tried not to laugh. He gently untangled Acorn’s claws and handed her a raisin before sending her off in the other direction.
Cassia stewed, glaring after the animal. “I hate that little—”
“Doran’s awake,” Solara interrupted. “He needs more pain meds. You might want to give him an antibiotic for infection, too. He looks feverish.”
That distracted Cassia from her rage. Her mouth pulled into a frown as she stood from the table. “I already gave him one.”
“An antibiotic?”
Cassia nodded. “Because of all the open wounds.”
She and Renny followed Solara to the bedroom. As soon as Cassia took a seat on the edge of Doran’s bed, she placed a hand on his forehead. “No fever. If anything, you feel cold.”
Doran responded with a shiver and gathered the blanket around his neck.
“Any dizziness?” Cassia asked.
“A little,” he said. “But I thought it was from the pills.”
“Those left your system hours ago.”
“Then give me some more. I’m dying here.”
Cassia didn’t seem to like hearing that. She flicked a glance at Renny, then refocused on her patient. “Where’s the worst of the pain?” she asked. “In your nose?”
“Unh-uh.” Doran curled into the fetal position and shivered again. “My belly and my sides. It feels like I did a thousand crunches in my sleep.”
“Did Demarkus hit you there?”
Solara knew the answer to that. “Yes. And he didn’t hold back.”
“Lie flat and pull down the covers,” Cassia said. “I want to have a look under your shirt.”
“Yeah, you do,” Doran teased.
That elicited a smile from Cassia. “It’s my lucky day.”
“Get on with it,” Solara said, her face suddenly hot. “This isn’t the time for jokes.”
“Yes, ma’am,” grumbled Doran, rolling onto his back.
As soon as he lifted his shirt, Cassia gasped, but clearly not out of appreciation for his sculpted torso. Her smile fell and she breathed, “Oh my god.”
Solara moved closer to see what was wrong. She glimpsed exposed flesh, but Doran’s nakedness barely registered. She went blind to everything except the sick patchwork of bruises that bled across his body until she couldn’t tell where one ended and the next began. It looked like someone had injected wine beneath his skin.
Her stomach tightened. “What does this mean?”
“Internal bleeding,” Cassia said. “That’s why he’s dizzy. He’s lost too much blood.”
Doran tugged down his shirt. “Stop talking about me like I’m not here. How are we going to fix it?”
Instead of answering, Cassia locked eyes with Renny.
“You can fix it,” Doran pressed, volleying a gaze between the two. “Right?”
“We only have a few basics in the med kit,” Cassia told him. “Painkillers and antibiotics for common wounds. Not the kind of drug that heals internal damage.”
“But there’s a drug like that?” Solara asked.
“Tissue-Bond,” Renny said. “It’s expensive.”
“Then we’ll buy some.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Money makes everything simple,” Solara snapped. “I’ve got tons of fuel chips. I’ll buy it on the black market.”
Cassia nervously twirled a lock of blond hair at the base of her head, too short to fit into her dreads. She glanced at the first mate and said, “You should tell him. If it were me, I’d want to know.”
“That sounds ominous,” Solara said. “It’s Demarkus, isn’t it? He runs the black market, and now he won’t sell to us.”
Renny blew out a long breath and dug inside his trouser pockets to study the odds and ends he’d collected there—a broken necklace, a few liquid-filled capsules, and the small jar of medicated oil she’d just used on Doran’s lips. She held out a hand toward Renny, and he finally spoke as he ret
urned the jar. “He put a price on Doran’s head. Alive, preferably. But that’s not a requirement.”
Doran pushed to his elbows. “How much?”
“Twice what the Solar League is offering.”
“Wonderful,” Solara muttered. Once Kane found out, he’d probably stage a mutiny. Or cash in on the reward. She hated herself for thinking it, but after his tantrum last night, she didn’t know what he was capable of.
Ever the optimist, Renny pointed out, “It’s not personal. Two of Demarkus’s men have challenged him since the fight. I think he’s worried he’ll never have a moment’s peace until he kills you.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Doran said. “I was afraid he didn’t love me anymore.”
“Can we be serious for a minute?” Solara asked. She yanked the blanket over Doran’s body and softly karate-chopped it into place. “None of this is funny. Your whereabouts are a golden ticket right now. If I try to buy your medicine from a smuggler, I’ll probably end up tortured until I told him where you are.”
“Maybe I don’t need it,” Doran said with a hopeful glance at Cassia. “The bleeding could stop on its own.”
“Stranger things have happened,” she told him. “But the odds are slim. Do you feel lucky?”
Solara shook her head. “We’re not gambling with your life, Doran.”
“If I could reach my father—”
“But you can’t,” Solara interrupted. Twice over the last few weeks, they’d tried calling his father from the ship’s transmission system, with no success. She looked down at her gloves and knew there was only one solution. “If nobody will sell us the drug, we’ll steal it.”
“Won’t work,” Renny said automatically, as if theft was the first thing he’d considered. “We’d have to put out feelers to see which smugglers have the Tissue-Bond. That alone will tip our hand because everyone knows about the fight.”
“I never said we’d be stealing from smugglers,” Solara told him.
One curious brow lifted above Renny’s eyeglass lens.
“We’re close to Obsidian,” she said. “The beaches are in the tourist circle, which means food and shopping—and shiny medical centers with fully stocked supply rooms.”