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He suspected Fal’ran knew his colors as well, and if Fal’ran knew them, then Patrick knew them. But he didn’t find the notion as disturbing as he might have. He’d chosen to stay with Squad M because he cared deeply for them and believed that they cared for him in return. If that meant they knew more about him than anyone else since his childhood with Serihk, then that was a deal he was willing to make.
“I won’t keep you long.” Serihk eyed the lavender-cream-filled pastry puff closest to him on Sazahk’s plate but didn’t touch it. “I know you have others you would rather spend this time with.”
“As do you.” Sazahk looked meaningfully at the burly human man who’d followed his brother all about the ballroom that evening. Or at least, who had appeared to follow his brother about. A more measured analysis indicated that it was his brother that had followed the human around. The way they looked at each other spoke of an intimacy that shocked Sazahk. “I never expected you to take a human lover. The political impracticality seems beyond a level I would expect you to find tolerable. And I doubt Father approves.”
“Father was not given the opportunity to express an opinion.” Serihk’s dark eyes flickered to somewhere over Sazahk’s shoulder. “And I could say the same of you. To be honest, I’m not sure I expected you ever to take a lover.”
Sazahk refused to follow his brother’s gaze. He’d already come clean to him about some semblance of his feelings for Garin, but that didn’t mean he needed to expose any more of their depths to him.
“Not that I judge you.” Serihk’s eyes snapped back to him, orange brushing across his nose. “In fact, I’m happy for you.”
“I believe you are.” Sazahk handed his brother the purple pastry he so clearly wanted.
He believed him both because of what Serihk had said and done when Sazahk had begged him for help, and because of the way he looked at the human man with the obviously once-broken nose from across the room. There was something softer and more earnest in him than Sazahk remembered from when they were younger. He supposed there was probably something different about himself since they were younger, too.
He hoped there was, at least.
“But I doubt you summoned me for an opportunity to exchange our mutual incredulity with each other’s romantic decisions.” Sazahk stabbed a toothpick into a cube of semi-hard cheese that he and Garin found particularly delicious, despite its somewhat off-putting smell.
“No.” Serihk took a small bite of the pastry, managing to not get purple cream on his face when it burst from its flakey confines. His lips twitched up at the taste, but then he looked at Sazahk again and his shoulders curled back and he lifted his chin. “Actually, I wanted to inform you I have taken the liberty of procuring you a gift. A reward, rather, for your significant part in securing the peace deal we are all here celebrating.”
Sazahk chewed his cheese and raised an eyebrow as he looked about the room. The tone of the gathering wasn’t exactly celebratory. Insects and members of the other species states sharing space for the first time without exchanging fire made for a tense atmosphere. And an air that might be more accurately described as mournful hung about Dominic and Prince Hyg despite the society faces they both wore. But the inaccurate description concerned Sazahk less than the concept of a gift from his brother, which must have shown on his face.
“A reward that you are under no circumstances required to accept and that I have already been informed”—Serihk glanced at his human man, who watched them from his position by the bar—“might have been a step too far for our only recently renewed relationship.”
Sazahk restrained the instinct to reject whatever Serihk wanted to push on him. His brother was trying. That much was evident. He smeared the next foul-smelling cheese onto a simple cracker. “Considering the bitter and false beliefs I have harbored about you for the past decade, I suspect I owe it to you to hear what you propose to give to me with an open mind.”
Serihk’s shoulders loosened. “You don’t owe me anything, Sazahk.”
“I owe you at least Garin’s life.” Sazahk stuffed the cracker into his mouth. And Garin’s life was worth more to him than he wanted to admit.
“No, he owes you his.” Serihk shook his head and daintily finished the rest of his pastry. “Something I’m sure he’s aware of and grateful for.” He brushed the crumbs from his fingers and gave Sazahk a serious look. “You did well.”
Sazahk didn’t think he’d ever seen that pride in his brother’s eyes before. At least, he hadn’t seen it directed toward him. Or if he had, he hadn’t been willing to see it, or hadn’t believed that he’d seen it.
Whichever the case, finally seeing the expression on his brother’s face hurt like the first bite of food after starvation. Sazahk thought of the way Garin’s brothers looked at him and the way Garin looked at his brothers. The pictures of them Garin carried around in his pocket wherever he went.
Sazahk didn’t understand it at all, but he wanted to.
He held out another pastry to his brother. “And what presumably absurdly large and financially demanding gift have you gotten me?”
Burnt orange twisted across Serihk’s cheeks. “A ship.”
He pulled his data tablet from his robes and held it out. On the screen was an outline meant for a qeshian hand, of the sort Sazahk hadn’t seen in a long time. He eyed it with a mixture of wariness and excitement.
He doubted Serihk had procured him a budget ship. If it was anything like Serihk’s own vessel, it was something Sazahk wasn’t sure he could even accept.
But he reached out and pressed his palm to the screen.
A flood of information streamed into his implant. Engines. Displays. Rooms. Sensors. Walls. Floors. Ceilings. Computers. Tablets. Screens.
A lab.
With nothing but a thought, Sazahk lifted a delicate flex metal tentacle from a workstation and touched a microscope.
The ship wasn’t large like Serihk’s, which carried an entire household with it. It would fit five, maybe six, people comfortably, but not much more than that.
But that didn’t matter because it already felt like his.
