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Roy nodded, unsure what to say.

“I told the servants I needed privacy and let Leo in. We bottled the milk and sneaked out of the tower—thank Aether we were both into rock climbing.”

“They must have loved you.”

“They never knew it was me.” Cal shrugged. “I didn’t want the word to spread and for someone in the palace to find out. That way, my bathtub was full of milk every night, and we repeated that for a couple of months.”

“Hm. So things got better, with the food?”

“No,” Cal whispered. “We got caught. And of course, they didn’t believe my fairytales about helping people—not when the High Priestess insisted I was being indecent with my fiancé. She had me chained to the shrine’s altar and whipped to set me free of my sins.” A desperate smirk spread on Cal’s face. “An apprentice was present since that day for my evening baths, forcing me to fully submerge. The wounds kept getting inflamed—apparently, proof of my lingering sin—and the milk was ruined.”

Roy’s hands idled on Cal’s waist. He’d thought the thin strips of scars that lined Cal’s back were injuries from some strange, otherworldly sport. But this explanation? “Cal, I—I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s okay; I unloaded a lot onto you.” Their faces were close enough for their breaths to mingle. “Look, I understand if you want to slow down. I can rent an apartment in Wedunia, and you can hire a new pilot. Lots of the garages are looking for mechanics; I think I’ll manage. We can date, like actual people. But I want a normal life, and I don’t want to lose you.”

“Stay,” Roy choked out. “Stay with me.”

The kiss that followed was deep and stormy. As it mellowed, Roy felt Cal’s smile against his lips, and the tension gripping his muscles melted away.

Chapter

Twelve

Aunt Ormi resided on Graxis, a tiny planet near the outskirts of their nebula. The journey took a little over two weeks. Cal had been restless, pacing around the deck with the e-Scroll lodged on his forearm. When his siblings fell asleep, Roy hugged him from behind, feeling Cal’s heartbeat flutter like a trapped bird in a cage.

“She was the only one who offered help,” Cal whispered, curled in Roy’s arms. “She’s our only chance. If I mess this up, they’re doomed.”

“You’ll do great.” Without any doubt, Cal’s charming personality would work on anyone. Uros and Adria would help too. Roy only doubted his own role in the mission, afraid of becoming the faulty cog that broke the machine.

After they’d landed, Cal surveyed his little diplomatic crew one last time. He adjusted Adria’s pigtails. The attempt to fix Uros’ collar earned an annoyed growl. And at last, he scanned Roy from head to toe, frowning at a stubborn hair sticking out from his eyebrow.

“Is that really necessary?” Roy scowled when a pair of tweezers appeared between Cal’s fingers.

“Yes. Now hold still.”

Roy rubbed the painful pulse in his brow. Graxis’s gravity tugged harder than it did back home, straining his muscles with every move.

The airlock hissed, releasing the outer hatch. Cal flashed a smile as they stepped into the bright light. The heavy air reeked faintly of metal and sulphur.

Servants rushed toward them, holding trays with appetisers and silver cups brimming with wine. Cal shook his head, eyes fixed on the dark-haired woman standing at the end of the docking hall.

“Auntie!”

“Oh, Cally.” Her deep voice cut through the dense air. She hitched up her skirt as she sprinted toward them.

Cal bowed before her. She giggled and patted his back.

“Stop that. Look at you! You look like you’ve grown since I last saw you.”

“Not much since then,” Cal chuckled. His aunt’s long nails ruffled his hair—Roy could only imagine the horror that boiled in his chest.

“Adria, my love.” Aunt Ormi crouched, offering an outstretched hand to the girl, currently hiding behind Uros’s leg. “And Uros! I would barely recognise you. How strange, how much one changes in such a short time.”

Her bright eyes drilled into Roy. He smiled politely, hands clasped behind his back. His clammy palms wouldn’t leave a good impression. A quiet ringing pestered his ears. Perhaps the descent had been too rushed.

“I believe we haven’t had the pleasure of meeting.”

“No, Ma’am.” Roy half-bowed and cleared his throat. “I’m Roy Toggio. From Pyraxis.”