Arjan pivoted away from the windows so he didn’t have to meet my eyes, while Eton was trying to kill Nev with his stare alone, by the looks of it. I’d silenced all sound between us and them, but there was more than one way to communicate. I pushed another button and the clear glass panes tinted until they were too dark to see through.
I looked out the sweeping viewport ringing my command station, at the strange, warped streaks of light like frozen reflections of stars on a rippling black ocean. I’d never been this far from home. The Kaitan had, no doubt, since it had made the journey to Alaxak in the first place, but it hadn’t gone much farther than the planet’s asteroid sea in decades. We’d left that boundary behind nearly as soon as Telu had programmed a course for Luvos and I’d engaged the dormant Belarius Drive however many hours ago.
“Needless to say, thank you for saving my life.” Nev’s voice moved, coming alongside me, perhaps so he could take in the view as well. “Airlock’s getting more use than it has probably had in a while. As sociable as you all are, I can’t imagine you dock much in space.”
Even his jibe was weary, but the corner of my mouth still twitched. His ability to dredge up a sense of humor at inappropriate times might have come from his carefree upbringing, but I somehow still appreciated it. Sometimes, I even wished I had the same ability.
“When it’s company like yours…” I trailed off as I noticed the blood dripping from his scraped elbow, the raised gouges crisscrossing his already bruised arms and chest—though the bruises were significantly lighter than they should have been, thanks to whatever he’d jammed into his neck on the destroyer—and the oozing cut from who-knew-what, maybe the zipper of Eton’s jacket, swiping down the length of his back. Even the gash on his brow from his first fight with Eton had reopened. “Nev.”
“Hm?”
“You’re a wreck.”
He glanced down at himself. “So I am.” Then he winced at even that movement and rubbed his throat.
“Here.” I was moving before I thought about what I was doing, on autopilot. I opened one of the many lockers set into the wall and pulled out the ship’s medi-kit, which was also getting a lot more use lately.
“You don’t have to—” Nev began.
“Sit,” I ordered.
He perched on a bench in only synthetic thermal bottoms, his feet bare on what had to be freezing metal grating, shirtless and bleeding, head hanging.
Maybe one of the bonuses of strong-arming half of my crew into an airlock was that the rest took me more seriously…if Nev could even begin to count as crew. Despite looking like anyone who’d had the scat beaten out of them several times in a row, he was a royal. Not only that, a blasted prince. And not only that, but in line to rule as heir to the entire Dracorte family empire.
“We don’t have anything too advanced here,” I said, suddenly self-conscious about the battered case I held. “I’m sure you’ll tell me that next time I should consider saving up for a proper medi-kit, but—”
He held up a hand and accidentally—or not—brushed my forearm with his fingers. He wasn’t looking up, or trying to move with much precision, almost like he was drunk. He must have really been tired. About as tired as me. “My apologies. I was being an ass.”
The words warmed my belly like a gulp of something hot to drink. I could also probably admit that I’d been an ass too, earlier. Everyone had been using Nev as a punching bag—the leather dummy in Gamut’s bar came to mind, which was actually supposed to be Nev’s father, the Dracorte king—but I didn’t have to, as well. Not everything was his fault.
But I couldn’t find the words to apologize like he had. I sat next to him, sifting through the contents of the kit.
“This is going to sting,” I said. “Here, turn.”
He shifted his back to me. “I’m not too worried.”
I hesitated before touching him, unsure, suddenly, if I was even allowed. Were there rules against touching princes? But since when had I cared what I was or wasn’t allowed to do?
He didn’t flinch or make a noise when I started in on the long cut down his back with a swab soaked in acidlike disinfectant. Still, I moved quickly, cleaning the wound as best as I could without causing him too much pain.
I stuck bandages over it afterward, then said, “Elbow.”
Without arguing, he gingerly rested his head against the wall, keeping his back off it, closed his eyes, and curled his arm up to give me the best angle at his elbow. I tried to ignore the fact that the arm was nicely muscled as I leaned forward to swab and bandage the bleeding scrape. Looking at the rest of him as little as possible—it felt too sneaky, somehow, with his eyes closed—I finished the job in silence.
But I didn’t feel like stopping there, and Nev didn’t move. I could almost think he was asleep, if I didn’t know firsthand how much this disinfectant burned. I set his arm down for him and began cleaning the reopened gash on his once-perfect brow—though, for all his injuries, his face still looked pretty damned near perfect.
He could have reached the gouges on his chest himself, but he’d likely mess up his elbow dressing in the process. Besides, his eyes were still closed. With only a brief hesitation, I doused another swab in disinfectant, leaned over him so that I hardly touched him, and dabbed at the worst of the wounds there.
When I risked a glance at his face again, his eyes were open. He watched me in a still way, almost holding his breath, as if he didn’t want to startle me. I went back to work, trying not to feel the weight of his silvery stare.
“Thank you,” he murmured, when I finished.
“That would be all I’d need, for you to come down with an infection.” It wasn’t exactly what I wanted to say, but it was the easiest thing. I still didn’t look up at him. With all the idiotic, whirling nervousness I’d had in my stomach since he’d touched me on the destroyer, what if Shadow appeared in my eyes? I’d been avoiding his gaze for half the previous day for that reason. I busied myself packing up the medi-kit.
“Well, then thanks for sparing yourself an inconvenience and letting me benefit as a pleasant side effect.” He was still resting against the wall in a posture that looked like every part of him must hurt.
I paused on a small bottle. It wouldn’t work as fast or as effectively as one of those injector tubes, but it would deaden the pain a bit. “Open your mouth,” I said, unscrewing the lid.
“Qole, I don’t want to deplete your entire kit—”
“Then buy me another one and open up.” By now, there was no point in denying he had a million times the resources I had. No point other than pride, but I was feeling less proud and more off-balance and tingly, at the moment.
He sighed. I thought he might accept the bottle from me as I raised it toward him, but he apparently took me literally and tilted his head back, lips parted. I smiled to see the incongruity of a prince and wielder of a Disruption Blade opening his mouth for medicine, waiting like a child. As I tipped the contents into his mouth, my breath caught when I tried to push down the laughter that rose inside me. I ended up sloshing a few drops on his face.