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Sebastian wrinkled his nose and propped his elbows up on the counter. He dropped his chin into his hands. “I am. I’m just hungry.” And confused. “This body’s stomach is empty.”
His mother came back in and sashayed over to the cabinets. “Well, lucky for you, I think I still remember how to make pancakes.”
“Pancakes for breakfast? Chaos in the streets? An unprovoked attack by the Klah’Eel?” Sebastian’s father came in and grabbed himself a fresh mug. “Feels like when you two were kids again.”
Sarah snorted and crossed her legs. “Well, we should at least admit that this one wasn’t unprovoked.”
His mother waved over her shoulder as she haphazardly poured ingredients into a large bowl. “We’ll admit it in private.”
His father nodded and pointed a finger at Sarah. “But we’ll present a united and uncompromising front in public.”
Sarah raised her mug in a salute. “Always.”
She and Sebastian’s father had been consolidating yet more power in the local Southern Tava legislature as Sarah grew older. Turned out two Ralsdis in politics were even better than one. It helped that Sarah had recently become engaged to Robert Haron, the son of another well-respected old family.
The Harons and Ralsdis had nothing like the power of the oligarchic Turners, who held sway within the entire sector, but they could undoubtedly nudge the future of Southern Tava in the direction they wanted.
“How’s Leon?” Sebastian asked as he watched his mother spoon globs of batter onto a hot, spitting pan.
“He’s fine,” his father replied without looking at him, too preoccupied with watching his wife cook with a look of concern. “Just very, very tired.”
“Yeah, I don’t think he sleeps much, even when he doesn’t have me in his head.” Sebastian twisted his lips and tapped his knuckles on the counter thoughtfully, thinking of how tired Leon had looked before the speech and the deep exhaustion Sebastian had felt in his bones.
A funny silence happened then, and Sebastian looked up from the counter to catch the tail end of another glance between his parents.
Then his father looked at him with a small smile that didn’t touch his eyes. He idly stroked his fingers along the edge of his mug and said mildly, “I didn’t realize you and Leon Hess were so close.”
Sebastian recognized this tactic. Whenever his parents wanted to talk to him about something, his father started the conversation because his mother was too much like him: all bluster and no tact.
“We work closely together. You know how much I do for the Resistance.”
“Of course we do,” his mother interjected as she clumsily flipped a pancake, getting a bit of batter over the edge of the pan. “We’re very proud of you.”
His father nodded in agreement. “Yes, very proud. Our family has always believed in the cause.”
“And in Hess,” Sebastian felt the urge to clarify. “You supported Farlon grooming him as his successor. You could have pressed him to choose someone else.”
His father nodded again. “Yes, we believe in Hess’s dedication and capability.”
Sebastian straightened and lifted his chin. “But?”
Sarah sighed. “But Martha told us he’s planning on duplicating that gas and using it.”
Despite his best efforts, that took the defiance right out of Sebastian’s spine, and he slumped back to the counter. “And you disagree?”
“We wanted your opinion.” His father came to stand across the island from him and set his mug down. “You’ve been through it twice. Do you think that weapon is usable?”
Sebastian pressed his lips together and looked between his father and his sister, who both stared at him hard. He wanted to say that it was because Leon had decided it was, and clearly his family had something against Leon that they were unwilling to articulate, and that infuriated Sebastian because he didn’t want them to be against Leon but…
He dropped his head. “No.” He groaned and scrubbed at his face with his palms. “No, I think it’s the worst thing ever created. I think it’s the fucking occupation in a canister.”
His father tapped his forefinger against the counter, and Sebastian could imagine the careful expression on his face as he hummed.
Sebastian dropped his hands and looked back up at him. “But maybe that doesn’t matter. Maybe all that matters is that it works.” He threw his hands wide. “Maybe it’s worse to have done everything we did and to have promised so much to everyone to throw it all away and lose it all now because we wouldn’t take one more step.”
His sister nodded slowly in the spitting image of their father. “Is that what you think?”
Sebastian spun to her. “What does it matter what I think? I’m not the one that makes decisions.”
