He choked and grabbed my hand in reflex. “That tastes terrible.”
“Sorry, my prince,” I said, with as much sarcasm as I could dredge up. I pulled my hand out of his without quite ripping it away and packed up the rest of the medi-kit.
He winced, but apparently not from pain. “I really can’t abide the sound of you calling me that, for some reason.” He relaxed, as much as he seemed to be able to, into the wall again. “Maybe I’m just tired,” he added, with a hint of a sardonic smile, “and I won’t mind hearing it after I get some sleep.”
My lips curled, in spite of themselves. What an arrogant brat. He was funny about it, but he was still an arrogant brat. Just moments before I’d been furious and filled with Shadow, and now here I was laughing with a systems-be-damned Dracorte. “Well, you won’t hear it again, so don’t get used to it.”
“I won’t. You are my captain, after all. Captain.”
“Don’t even pretend to—” I began with a scowl.
“I’m not.” He met my eyes in all seriousness. “I’m on your ship, and I’ve promised to follow your orders. I’ll respect you as my captain.”
The tingling increased to a full-body buzz. My blood sang, my heart pounded. Nev, a blasted prince, was acknowledging me as his captain when my own crew barely could. And he meant it. Sometimes he said things just because they seemed like the right thing to say, but I could tell when he felt them.
I held his eyes finally, wanting to say something without quite knowing what, but then whatever last bit of energy I had drained out of me. I slumped against the wall next to him, my bare shoulder brushing his for a second before I tipped slightly away. “At least someone does.” I snorted. “You, of all people.”
“You shouldn’t snort. It’s a rather unbecoming noise,” he said, yawning. “…Captain.”
Unbecoming. I grew up on a frontier world of dust and ice. I didn’t even know what that word meant. To prove the point, I snorted again, but I couldn’t help the smile that kept tugging at my lips.
“Seriously, though,” he said. I thought he might be talking about snorting until he said, “I think Arjan and Eton are good people. They’ve got your back, and now that they’ve been reminded you’re in charge…you might want to give them a second chance. Although, don’t tell them I said that.” He glanced toward the airlock, where Eton and Arjan were still hidden from view. And here was the man they’d tried to kill, suggesting I go easy on them. Nevarian Dracorte, for all his faults—like being a Dracorte—was an oddly decent person. Or maybe I was just tired, thinking that. And I was, so, so tired. I closed my eyes and let the feeling wash over me.
“Tell me about them.”
“Hm?” I said, blinking at the sound of Nev’s voice next to me. I’d almost dozed off sitting up, and suddenly realized I was leaning into him, my whole side pressing into his more and more. I wasn’t sure if it was ruder to stay like that or pull away, but the warmth was comforting on the cold bridge, so I decided not to move, tingling all the more.
“Tell me about the crew. They’re my crew too, now, after all.”
“Well, you’ve met Eton and Arjan,” I said dryly. I plucked at a stray thread on the inner seam of my leather leggings. Somehow I’d once again found myself alone in his presence without wearing too much. At least this time he was equally, if not more, undressed. His synthetic thermal bottoms still made my leather pair look rough-cut and shabby. “What do you want to know?”
“Meeting someone is hardly knowing them.”
I wondered if he wanted to know me beyond meeting me—beyond knowing what I was, whatever that was. Beyond my Shadow affinity, at least. How much of me was just a science experiment to him?
“Where are Eton and Basra from?” he continued. It didn’t quite sound like what he wanted to ask, his voice careful for some reason. Maybe he didn’t want me to think he was prying, and he was easing me into this, coaxing me into talking.
I was tempted to scoff again. “Of course you’d ask the question I know the least about. Outsiders who end up on Alaxak don’t always like to talk about how they got there.” I shot him a pointed look for emphasis. “I know Eton is from one of the royal planets, maybe yours, and he was some type of bodyguard. Maybe for a family, but he never said which, and I didn’t ask him. Basra I know even less about. He’s incredibly skilled for how young he is.”
Nev was smiling beneath half-closed eyes. “Basra must be around twenty-five or so? Hard to tell for sure, and young, no doubt, but I’m sitting next to a seventeen-year-old who just so happens to be the best Shadow fishing captain on Alaxak.”
Flustered, I asked the first stupid thing to come to mind. “How do you know how old I am?”
He tilted his head to raise one eyebrow that as good as said, Come on, what do you take me for? “I believe I’ve demonstrated that I know how to ask questions. In fact, I’m demonstrating it now.”
Of course he’s aware of my age, my skill, I reminded myself a little bitterly. The fact that I’d come so far so young and was even still alive was probably how he’d determined I could be of the most use to him.
But his eyes weren’t the least bit insincere or beguiling as he asked, “Well, if you don’t know where they’re from, how did Eton and Basra come to join your crew?”
“I met them both a little over three years ago after…after I was just getting started fishing.” I’d almost said, After most of my family died, but I didn’t want him to think all I did was dwell on it. Usually, I didn’t; I couldn’t—I was too busy. “Eton first. He came out of nowhere. Someone was hassling me on the dock for I don’t even remember what. I was an easy target; I was only fourteen, never mind that I had my own ship. Or maybe it was because I had my own ship. Anyway, before I knew it, Eton hauled this guy away from me and flattened him. I needed a strong-arm and weapons tech, and so I asked him a couple of questions: did he know how to shoot a mass driver, and if so, did he want a job?”
“Did you offer him the chef’s position then or after?”
I grinned. “He just sort of fell into it, since he was the only one onboard who knew anything about cooking. At that point, it was only me, Arjan, and Telu—a bunch of kids, really, even if Arjan was eighteen then. But you wouldn’t make fun of Eton if you’d tasted more of his food. The guy wields kitchen gadgets like he wields his guns…and has an equally large collection of both.”