Both his brows go up this time, and he hesitates. “I won’t tell anyone about you,” he replies eventually.
I can’t help but let my breath out, and it emerges shakier than I’d like. My palms feel hot where they’re pressed against my thighs. A good actress feels some of what she emotes, but I need to get a grip. I shouldn’t care whether he trusts me or not, just whether he gets me where I need to go.
He’s watching me with his usual air of indolent charm, though now I can see the shrewdness behind the lazy grin. For a wild, insane moment I want to blurt out the truth—I want to tell him everything. I choke it down. Walk carefully, Sofia.
I lift my chin again, this time so I can meet his eyes. “Then I might as well tell you…Sofia. My name’s Sofia.” Truth. “God, I can’t remember the last time I gave someone my real name.” Truth. “So…no more secrets.”
Lie.
Time is a disease this species has created, and as their captives, time infects us as well. The symptoms are impatience, and boredom, and madness, and despair. And worst of all: understanding. These creatures cannot see into each other as we can, and therefore they know each other only through the words they invent. And words breed untruth.
And the blue-eyed man has been lying to us.
SOFIA. THE NAME SUITS HER. It’s graceful, like it might slip away between my fingers, leaving no trace it was ever there.
“No more secrets,” I echo, though I know it can’t be a promise of my own. I can see it right there for an instant—how much more there is in that space between us, how much more we could both say. But right as I can feel myself on the edge of doing something stupid, she sighs, scooting back on the bed so she can lean her head against the wall, breaking the moment. I let it go.
“Do you have anything to eat down here?” she asks, toeing off the shoes I snagged for her, so she can draw her knees in against her chest and close her eyes.
“I don’t think it’s going to suit your palate,” I warn her, pushing to my feet and reaching up into the rafters for the locker where I’m pretty sure I stuffed my snacks.
“Hey,” she replies, opening one eye. “Just because you found me living in a penthouse doesn’t mean I was born there.”
“I have no idea where you were born,” I agree, though the gray marble that is Avon flashes through my mind. “But you asked me not to try and find out.” I find a bunch of energy bars and a couple of cans of stims. Cracking the seal on one, I hand it across to her, then open my own, taking a long swig.
She sips and grimaces, then sips again. “You don’t need to know that, for us to work together.”
“True,” I agree. “I can live with the mystery.”
“You work for the Knave, Gideon.” Her lashes lift properly so she can peer at me. It’s not an apology, but it’s something related to it—an explanation she wants me to understand. “I know all the hearsay can’t be right, but if even a fraction of it is, he’s ruthless, impossible to pin down. He could be LaRoux for all anyone actually knows about him. You’re his lackey, at the end of the day. The less you know, the better.”
“Lackey’s a little harsh.” I reach for a joke, but I can hear in my own voice that I don’t quite make it. “I prefer henchman.” She doesn’t smile, and I don’t either. “I’m my own man. You can trust me, I promise you that.”
“I’m trying,” she replies, tired. “You came for me when you didn’t have to. But I don’t trust him.”
“Who told you not to?” I can’t help myself. When this thing is done, I’m going to track down whoever’s been ruining my rep and devise a punishment to make future generations quail. A punishment that would make Commander Towers view the year of her life she’s spent on the run from me as a walk in the park.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she replies, grimacing as she sips from her can again, then setting it down beside the bed as her willingness to subject herself to it runs out. “But trust me, I know.”
Silence settles over us, and though having someone in my den makes my skin feel twitchy, there’s something warmer about having her here, too. I’d be the last to admit it, but after what I’ve seen at LRI Headquarters, I don’t really want to be alone.
“They’re never going to stop looking for us now,” Sofia murmurs. Our narrow escape is on her mind too.
“At least not until LaRoux Industries carries out whatever it’s planning to do with that rift.”