His nose hitches against my collarbone, and his breathing starts to steady against our chests. “Sounded like Seely.”
My heart aches, and the terror of that moment comes rushing back to me. Of course—the last time he heard an Archon rhythm, it was the one our classmates were pounding into their Viper dashboards as he fled from their fire. To wake to that—and to have no context to distinguish between a rallying beat and a simple wake-up call—must have been the worst possible way to greet a new day on Henrietta Base.
Gal makes a low noise beneath me that shudders through my entire body. Only then do I grasp that I’ve wrapped myself around him, he can feel almost every part of me, and yep, it’s the morning.
How bad would it be? a terrible part of me croons. Because for two people who’ve resolved not to do this, we’re really bad at not doing this.
Then I remember that I didn’t shower or change last night, and I hate myself for letting that be the reason I peel off him, shuffle over to the edge of the bed, and let the chill of my feet on the floor shock some sense into my system. “You good?” I ask, and nearly double over laughing at how falsely casual those two words can sound.
“Ettian.”
“I’m gonna take a shower.”
He doesn’t press the issue.
When I get back, we slip into our old academy routine, staggering around each other and getting dressed, communicating mostly in grunts and shrugs as the gray dawn outside fades into a clear, bright morning. Gal’s datapad chimes with an alert as the base system delivers our itineraries. “Breakfast in ten, meeting in an hour,” he says, tilting the pad so I can see.
I tap Wen’s name on the schedule, seamlessly inserted alongside our own, and Gal grimaces. “I didn’t tell her it was you.”
His eyes dart away guiltily. Maybe he thought he’d dodged this topic after the turn our conversation took last night.
“She deserves an apology.”
“And a reason to gut me with that freaky umbrella?” Gal massages his temples with both hands, then tugs nervously at the jacket he’s shrugged on. “No. I know she deserves an apology, but—”
I shake my head, crossing to the door. “Even if you don’t tell her you were the one who sent her back, I think it’s fair to say you’re sorry for letting it happen.” I pause with my hand on the handle. “It only gets worse if you let it fester. Sooner you talk to her, sooner she puts it out of mind. Tell her now.”
You’re one to talk. I bite down hard on a grimace.
Gal rolls his eyes, stalking past me as I open the door for him. “Fine, Gold One,” he scoffs.
I step out into the hall and find myself greeted by a disconcertingly happy-looking face. “Morning!” the soldier chirps, pushing himself off the wall across from the door as he fumbles with his earpiece. He’s warm-skinned and slight-framed in a way that tells me he did most of his growing on Archon rations. I’d call him handsome if he didn’t look way too chipper for the hour of the morning. “Name’s Sims,” he continues. “I’ve been assigned to escort you for the first few days to get you acclimated to the base. I’m also your security, so uh…don’t try anything funny, I guess?”
He gets the pair of blank looks and blinks he deserves.
“Right then,” he says, unfazed. “Breakfast. Onward!”
Sims leads the way, guiding us down the stairwell and out of the dorms. Gal keeps his gaze turned pointedly away from me the whole time. Calming him this morning feels like a distant dream, and all it took was the mention of Wen’s name. I know he’s scared. I know he’s stressed. And I know he’s not convinced we need to keep Wen around. But even though I promised I’m with him, I can’t abandon her a second time. Gal needs me, but Wen needs somebody—anybody—on her side.
We rendezvous with her and her guard in the cafeteria, which is already packed with soldiers and choked with a smell I don’t clock as familiar until I see Gal wrinkle his nose at it and realize he’s never encountered genuine Archon food before. Wen gives me a smile that matches the buttery sunlight streaming through the windows. She’s dressed in her tattered clothes from yesterday, and I make a mental note to see if the resistance can outfit her with something better.
“Sleep well?” Wen asks, nudging a bony elbow into my ribs as we hop into the mess line.
My self-pitying chuckle gets stuck in my throat when I catch the conflicted pinch of Gal’s brows. He squares his shoulders, and for a terrifying moment I’m seized by the impulse to step between them before the inevitable brawl breaks out. But then Gal’s soft, apologetic smile splits his face, and he says, “Wen, I’m sorry. I heard about what happened last night, and I’m glad Ettian caught you before it was too late.”
Wen pauses, her hand outstretched over a pile of toast. “Thanks,” she says, then claws a handful of slices together, to the horror of the cafeteria staff.
Gal shrugs as if to say, Good enough. He looks relieved, and it lightens the tension between us marginally. But then his gaze shifts to the long tables of the mess hall, and his jaw clenches.
If we had any remaining illusions about this being a scrappy group of freedom fighters, they’re shattered by the number of people in this room. The facilities could be explained by the Corinthian sponsorship. All those impressive buildings could be empty. But here’s the future of the empire’s revival, chowing down and making rowdy noise as they jostle their way through their mornings. General Iral doesn’t just have a fancy compound.
He has an army.
An army we’ll have to destroy.
As we move toward an empty table, one of the soldiers catches my eye and gestures invitingly to the empty space next to her and her companions. I try to adjust my course, but a tug on my jacket’s hem brings me up short. “We can’t interact with them,” Gal whispers urgently against my ear.
“We need intel. We need to actually talk to these people.”
He gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “We can’t afford to get close. You especially.”
The notion rankles me. “What do you mean by that?” I let a dangerous edge into my tone. If he doesn’t trust me to talk to these people because he thinks I’ll abandon him, he has another think coming.
“Ettian, I’m not worried about your loyalty. I’m worried about your heart.”
I stiffen, caught between the delight of being known so well and the shame of it. Of course Gal would notice how this situation tears me in half. Of course he would care about what it’s doing to me, to be here in the midst of a rebellion for an empire I thought was long dead. I don’t know why it’s become so surprising to realize that Gal is as invested in my well-being as I am in his.