Page 177 of The Space Between Stars

It was too much to hope for.

Mitek burst through the door and poked his head around the corner in a way that told her he’d been checking corners for several minutes. The wind blew his braids across his face, where they caught in the stubble on his chin. He put them back into place with a simple run of his fingers. He made it look so easy.

“I know you’re mad. But we need to talk.”

Something lifted inside her. “Do we?” Was Mitek actually going to admit what a little shit he’d been? Was he going to apologize for choosing Shrokan over her, even though she’d given him more money and power than a deckhand could have ever dreamed of? Would he tell her he’d never let her feel alone like that again? Fates, she wanted him to. Her whole body hurt with how much she wanted him to.

“About Calver.”

She crossed her arms. “I don’t want to talk about Calver.”

“I know you don’t want to talk about Calver. Trust me, I don’t want to talk about Calver. Nobody likes to look someone in the face and be told that they’re wrong. But hear me now: you’re wrong on this one. He’s broken. He almost killed you today. And me?” Mitek dragged his top teeth over his goatee. “Bratty, he didn’t recognize me. He was about to lob my bleeding head off. Something needs to be done. I don’t want to be the one to say I told you so.”

“Go away, Mitek.”

He pointed a finger at her. “Not until we’ve figured out a different plan for taking out the Tera’thians. One where he’s not involved.”

“We don’t need a different plan. Calver has it covered.”

“Calver is mentally unstable. I won’t let you put every man in this mission at risk because you’ve convinced yourself you’ve failed as a person unless you keep faith in him.”

“Go away, Mitek,” she repeated without looking up. Fates help her, she would not cry.

“Brat—”

“That’s an order!”

He stomped toward the door. It creaked open, but he hesitated over the threshold. She couldn’t see his face, but his words hissed through his teeth. “I always used to wonder why you were so surly and serious all the fucking time. Turns out it’s genetic.”

“Fuck you.”

The balcony door slammed, leaving her alone, just like she’d wanted. It seemed as though her Luck went with him. The night grew deeper. The breeze blew colder. She wasn’t sure how long passed before a gentle knock sounded on the balcony door.

“Go awaaay,” she sang.

The door cracked. “It is I.” Drogus’s deep baritone was almost soothing to her ears. Almost.

“While more acceptable than most, your presence is still not appreciated.”

“I would like to ask you something.”

Her second Hand seldom asked anything of her. She sighed. “Well?”

“Cam tells me your meeting with Avelius did not go well.”

“He did, did he?”

“Not intentionally. But the mood was tighter than the rigging upon your return. And I knew who would be easiest to slip information from.”

Cam was a fated liability.

“What is your question?”

“What was going to be your plan in the instance that you could not receive training from Methu’su?” As her Hand, Drogus was the only other who knew her truths. But she’d needed him at the dock preparing their departure today.

“Train myself,” she grumbled, her nails digging into opposite forearms.

“Wonderful. And so, we embark upon your secondary plan. I hear it can be a beautiful journey.”