“Keep your voice down, Tess,” Shade warned. “People are watching.”
I looked to the side. A tour group had stopped just beyond the stand of kimmery trees and was setting up a late-lunch picnic. They slanted us curious glances.
I slipped my arm through Shade’s and smiled at him, his face a little blurry through the hot moisture gathering in my eyes. “You’re right.” I laughed—through clenched teeth. “Let’s pretend everything’s fantastic and that the second most powerful person in the galaxy didn’t leave his niece and only living family to rot in a hard-labor prison mine.”
Shade smiled back at me, handsome as hell despite his beat-up face and the seriousness in the one eye that still opened. “Forty-two percent of the people sent to Hourglass Mile die within the first year there. You’re a survivor. You don’t need him.”
I glanced at Bridgebane. He didn’t say anything. Nothing to excuse or defend himself. No apology for his actions. He’d turned into an emotionless statue again, which I was starting to hate more than anything. He blew hot and cold so much that I didn’t know where the fucking wind was coming from. I only knew that it was likely to slam into me hard enough to cause permanent damage.
“Of course she needs him,” Sanaa Mwende sliced in with authority. She scowled at me. “And your blinders make you no better than a robot. You only see what’s been programmed into you.”
I scowled back at her. “That’s bullshit. You don’t know me.”
“Then stop acting like we’re the enemy.”
“You are the enemy,” I sputtered.
Mwende stepped forward. We were about the same height, close to six feet, but somehow, I felt as though she towered over me. “I’ve half a mind to pin your eyelids open until you see.”
My brows rose. “As far as threats go, that’s original.”
“You’ll find I’m full of surprises. You’ll get to discover some of them—while I’m your bodyguard.” She glared at my uncle. “I think we’ve stayed here long enough, don’t you, General?”
Bridgebane must have agreed because he ushered us down another pathway in the direction of the cruiser docks closest to the Grand Temple. He obviously wasn’t going to address the I-abandoned-my-niece-in-prison issue. I stomped along the garden road, disgusted. If there was one thing besides him turning all cold on Mom and me at the end that I wanted him to explain, it was how the hell he could have not known I’d been condemned to life in prison. Clearly, it only mattered to me. He must have figured I’d escaped, so who cared now?
“I’m going this way.” Bridgebane stopped by an on/off point to the moving walkway that funneled people into the vegetation-hung Rogo Docks. We were slightly farther away, because money didn’t buy everything. “Sanaa’s with you. If I have something useful, you’ll know in five days.”
Looking impressively awkward about it, he reached out and put his hand on my shoulder. I almost shook him off but then didn’t for some reason. He squeezed.
“Don’t expect a miracle, Qui—Tess,” he corrected. “Starbase 12 is heavily guarded.”
I sucked up all my hostility, confusion, and heartache and said, “I’d be grateful for anything.”
Bridgebane nodded. His whole body abruptly twitched forward, as though he wanted to hug me. I stiffened backward, my eyes widening. He froze, and we stared at each other. He was half my life, six brand-new bags of A1 blood, a chilling threat against Mareeka and Surral, and a bullet in Shade’s leg too late for this kind of affection. Didn’t he know that?
He dropped his hand and turned to Shade, suddenly asking, “How did you two even meet? It seems unlikely.”
“You blew holes in her ship. I’m a mechanic.” Shade shrugged. The rest was obvious.
“Of all the cities on all the planets?” Bridgebane said, incredulous.
“It was the Black Widow that decided. After you chased me into a black hole,” I added.
“I tried to keep you out of it,” Bridgebane grated.
“Yes, by ‘disabling me,’” I said with sarcastic air quotes. “The patched-up hull of my unarmed cargo cruiser thanks you for that.”
“The Black Widow decided…” Shade echoed thoughtfully.
I’d just added light-years of fuel to the engine for him believing in a higher power, hadn’t I?
“And you chose Quintessa over the two million units?” Bridgebane asked. “Over the huge bonus you could have had?”
As usual, my full name was a jolt to the system. It burned through me like a meteor shower, leaving craters all over the place.
“Yeah.” Shade cocked his head. “I guess I made a better choice than you did.”
The curiosity flickering in Bridgebane’s expression died, and his face shut down again like an android in need of a recharge. “You used to be effective, Ganavan. For Quintessa’s sake, let’s hope you still are. And here—” He pulled a small packet from his pocket and tossed it at Shade, who caught it. “That’s a new med wipe about to go public. It reduces swelling and heals cuts and contusions. You’re drawing attention to my niece. Try not to get trounced next time.”
Shade huffed quietly under his breath, turning the package over in his hand. “Thanks?”
My brows slashed down. “Can you ever not be a jerk for one second?” I asked my uncle.
Bridgebane met my fuming gaze head-on, his face still washed of expression. “No. I lost that ability when that heartless despot murdered Caitrin, and I was forced to desert you for your own safety.”
I stared in shock. I’d never heard him denigrate the Overseer out loud before. And forced? Had he truly wanted to keep me?
My chest clenched so hard it mashed my heart to pieces.
“Yes, I made a choice.” Bridgebane spread his hands between us, palms up, and it was the first time I’d ever seen him look even remotely helpless. “You—or everything.”
He didn’t mean his power or position; I knew that instinctively. He’d retained those, but I thought I finally understood why better. That dead look in his eyes wasn’t from lack of feeling. It was his default mode now, the countenance of a man used to giving orders and weighing horrible choices against one another, even when innocent lives, his only family, or his own future hung in the balance.
Had it changed him? Yes. Was he happy? No. Did he deserve my sympathy? My understanding? My forgiveness?
My eyes stung, and I bit my lip. Maybe.
Uncle Nate turned and left me—again—stepping onto the fast-moving walkway and leaving his lieutenant and possibly the only person he trusted behind him. With me. Through vision that burned and blurred, I watched him zoom toward the base of the docking tower. He didn’t look back at me. But then again, he never had, had he?