That got a reaction from Bridgebane. He paled, his eyes shining an almost inhuman azure in a face suddenly gone as gray as ash. “He’s hunting you. You’re in danger.”
I laughed. Some temple-goer walking nearby shushed me, and I brought down the volume. The alcove was secluded, but we weren’t alone by any stretch. “If that’s your big information, it’s old news. About eight years out of date.”
His nostrils flared. “I’m trying to help you.”
“Fuck you,” I said. It just popped out, surprising me as much as him. Bridgebane’s eyes widened. He didn’t look angry. More…sad, and the stab of guilt that needled straight into my heart enraged me as much as the rest of this did.
Sanaa Mwende didn’t move, but lightning-hot fury boiled in the fixed stare she leveled on me. If my uncle said the word, I had zero doubt she’d grind my face into the temple floor and thoroughly enjoy it.
“This is your chance,” Bridgebane said with surprising evenness. “Use it wisely.”
I wanted to be as distant and icy as he’d been in the months leading up to Mom’s death and my faked floating. I wanted to give him the cold shoulder. Walk away, because I didn’t need him. His lies. Or truths. Or whatever bullshit he was going to feed me.
“Why do you protect Starway 8?” I blurted out.
His eyes shuttered. His whole face shut down like I’d just hit a nerve that paralyzed him. “Not that one.”
Why do I even bother? “Don’t offer info and then say no, asshole.”
“Don’t speak to me that way, young lady.”
My jaw dropped. “What the fuck?”
His eyes flared. “Your mother would have a heart attack if she heard your language.”
“Mom’s dead and you abandoned me.”
“I left you in the one place you’d be happy!”
Pilgrims and tourists alike glared and shushed us. I didn’t care. My eyes burned and my heart was doing backflips. I didn’t understand how we were still family, this man and I, after all these years and despite everything. Only family could get under my skin this way—and we didn’t even technically share a common ancestor.
My mother’s stepbrother abruptly turned and stormed out of the alcove. I didn’t get the feeling he was ditching me, so I followed, Shade and Mwende right behind us. Bridgebane exited the temple at an angry clip, his military bearing unmistakable now. Outside, sunlight hit my eyeballs like hot little daggers. Sweat burst from my pores. Grumbling under my breath, I handed my bag to Shade and ripped off my jacket. Oof. Better. I tied it around my waist, cinching it tight with impatient jerks.
I hardly noticed the wide paths and sprawling lawns of the inner gardens. They weren’t overcrowded now that the temples were open. There was room to breathe, even if the humid air was as thick as honey. Bridgebane headed for trees—thank the Powers.
Shade walked beside me. Lieutenant Mwende took a few quick steps to join Bridgebane in front of us. She was alert to everything, coiled, controlled, and ready. Not outwardly aggressive, but still damn scary. She obviously knew what she was doing on the bodyguarding front. Where had she been the last time I’d seen my uncle? He’d been alone on Starway 8—until Shade showed up.
My stomach wound itself tighter and tighter as I followed them through the Holy Hollow. Nathaniel Bridgebane tied me up in knots, and this was only the second time I’d seen him in eighteen years. Time obviously didn’t heal all things—or erase all betrayals. Right now, I still felt like that grieving eight-year-old girl he’d dumped in an orphanage. The one person left alive that I’d loved had held me back from him at arm’s length, looked me in the eyes, and told me to change my name and never cross his radar again, or he’d kill me, just as the Overseer had ordered.
Bridgebane whirled once we were under the shade of a flat-leafed tree with conical clusters of nuts dangling from it. I almost ran into him and had to pull up short. We were too close. I flinched back, bumping into Shade instead. Shade put a hand on my lower back to steady me. My heart pounded, and Bridgebane stared at me. I glanced away, avoiding his fierce gaze by finding the tree immensely fascinating.
“It’s a kimmery,” he said mechanically, his tonelessness at odds with the sudden intensity in his expression. “Native to the Outer Zones. They’ve been brought here.”
I grunted. I liked trees. Trees were awesome. Trees didn’t rip out your heart, stomp on it, disappear for eighteen years, blow holes in your ship, try to arrest you, and then tell you it was all for your own good—to protect you and the whole damn galaxy. I touched the ridged bark with my fingertip, pressing hard to stop my visible shaking.
“Your mother liked crushed kimmery nuts sprinkled over vanilla frosting.”
My hand fell. I swallowed. If there was one thing I remembered, it was how Mom had always looked at Uncle Nate—like he was her hero, and always had been.
“Dad let her eat that? I mean…the Overseer.”
He shook his head. “As you know, that was a dessertless household. It was before we got there.”
What had it been like for him, suddenly having a fourteen-year-old girl move into his house with her mother? He’d been sixteen, but as far as I knew, the stepsiblings had quickly become thick as thieves, mainly because my mother flatly refused to be left out of Uncle Nate’s adventures.
“What else did she like?” I hardly remembered. Not details like that, especially because I didn’t think she had anything she liked or wanted after she married the Overseer.
“Colors,” he answered. “The brighter the better. And novels. And protecting others, even at the expense of herself. You’re more like Caitrin than you realize.”
He sounded as if that were a bad thing. Probably because Mom’s choices had gotten her killed. I figured mine would, too—someday. I just hoped for later rather than sooner.
He cleared his throat. “I should get back to Alpha Sambian.”
I waved a dismissive hand, instantly doused in bitterness again. “By all means, go back to being an evil minion of the empire.”
“You understand nothing,” Mwende hissed.
I took a step back, my hand flying to my heart. “She speaks!”
Mwende’s dark eyes narrowed at my sarcasm. “I have a lot of words for you, Daraja.”
“Daraja?” What does that mean?
“Take care of yourself,” Bridgebane said stiffly.
“Wait.” There was one question he’d better answer. “Where’s Shiori Takashi?”
My uncle’s mouth flattened, reluctance to tell me written in the tight seam of his lips. My heart started the painful thud, thud of being sure horrible news was coming. Was she dead?