CHAPTER 7

Before I can reconsider, Vel pounces.

He knows me so well. If he’d given me time to think, I would have tensed up, and it would have been much worse. Therefore, the pinch on the side of my neck surprises me with its mildness. “That’s it?”

Vel inclines his head. “In six to eight hours, you will begin to be able to understand Ithtorian. Within twenty-four, all the necessary connections will be in place, and you should comprehend the language fully.”

Interesting. He said “the,” not “our.”

“Will it leave a mark?”

“Not so anyone will notice.”

“Realistically, how much trouble am I going to be in with the council for not obeying their directive to remain in my quarters?” I ask.

“You are not a prisoner, Sirantha. You are an honored guest, and it is their duty to protect you. They will be shamed that you took even a small injury during your stay on Ithiss-Tor.”

“So this can be spun to our advantage?”

I don’t want them to focus on my outlaw tendencies. If they knew what a long, messy history I have of doing the opposite of what I’m told, things could get ugly. I wish I knew why, but it’s so deeply ingrained in me that it doesn’t even feel like an impulse. I process what I’m supposed to be doing, then before I know it, I’m off doing something else entirely, usually for very good reasons, but my motivations don’t change the outcome.

Deep down, I’m sure it has to do with my origins. I was conceived in grimspace. Humanity discovered grimspace via technology seeded by the old ones; we pass through it like a fold in space, allowing us to travel great distances in a short time. I’m one of those gifted with the J-gene, which lets me navigate this primordial matter. At the heart of grimspace lies pure chaos, the maelstrom from which all life originally sprang, so it makes sense to reckon a thread of disorder runs through my very DNA.

“I think it can be,” he says, after a moment’s thought. “But do remember, I have not lived on Ithiss-Tor for many turns. My recollections and assessments may not be entirely accurate any longer.”

“Noted.” I start to apologize again for not asking him for help, but I guess he can read my body language now, because he holds up a hand.

“Shall we see about March?”

“Sounds good,” I agree.

I lead the way from Vel’s quarters back to medical. Along the way, we greet various crew members, who must have been briefed to expect Vel’s natural appearance because they don’t recoil or otherwise react.

I can remember a time when March would have touched my mind half a dozen times while we were apart. Right now, I feel incredibly alone and in over my head, despite my significant volume of knowledge regarding Ithtorian culture and customs.

When we arrive, we find Doc wrapping up. Now awake, March looks more than a little edgy, his hands curled into fists on his upper thighs. Doc greets us with a wave, but he doesn’t turn away from the terminal where he’s working on test results.

“Good timing,” Doc says. “Get him out of here, will you, Jax? I need some peace to get this done, and he glares too loud for me to concentrate.”

“Can do,” I say, stifling a snicker. “Come on, you.”

I wish I could reach for him, lace my fingers through his. Instead, we step into the corridor, completely separate. If you’d told me I would one day come to miss having March in my head, I would have said you were crazy. But even more than his mind brushing mine, I miss his physical warmth.

Vel starts to follow, but Doc says, “Velith, if you could stay a minute, I have a couple of questions about the atmosphere on Ithiss-Tor.”

“Certainly.”

The door swishes shut, and I look at March hesitantly. “It’ll just take an hour or two for Doc to synthesize something. We might as well wait until he’s done.”

That would leave plenty of time for me to get back to my quarters in the council building, and get some sleep before the summit in the morning. Wordless, he nods. I head for our quarters, leaving Doc and Vel to talk.

The vast sea of screens, all playing Jax, has gone back into the wall, leaving the room stark and bare. I remember how I found him watching old vids of me after I woke up from the accident. He didn’t want to face me, didn’t want to admit I was right, and he lost himself on Lachion. It was easier to look at electrical slivers that offered a facsimile.

Separate bunks on opposite sides seem to encapsulate the problems between us. I don’t know how to bridge the gap, and in his current state, March doesn’t even care if I try. He’d rather go back to Nicuan, return to the life that nearly killed him once before.

The old Jax might have written him off as too much trouble. I’m delighted that’s no longer an option for me. Fixing March is my number one priority, apart from my ambassadorial duties.

“So,” he says, sprawling into a chair, “you’re going to drug me and keep me close as what . . . arm candy?”

I start to smile because, let’s face it—March is not arm candy. He’s big for one thing, bulky, not slim enough to wear clothes well. His black hair hasn’t been trimmed in a while, so it spills nearly to his shoulders. He’d hate to hear it, but apart from his eyes, his hair is his best feature. It’s silkier than it looks, and grown out, it has a touch of a curl.

He has a strong, rough-hewn face, more authoritative than attractive. His jaw says he’s pugnacious; his nose says he’s lost a few fights. But he has the most amazing eyes, fine sherry with gold and toffee flecks, fringed in glorious, ridiculous lashes that curl up on the ends. They’re even longer than they look because the tips have been bleached gold by the same sun that left his skin a burnished brown.

But my smile fades because he’s not joking. Does he see this as an imposition? Oh, Mary, would he prefer to leave? If it’s just a promise that keeps him here—and not the hope we can one day be together the way we were—then I don’t know if I can be the person who clings, insisting it’s for his own good.

“No.” My voice sounds soft, unsure.

For a few seconds, I can’t say more. I’m not the mind reader in our duo, so I can’t check to see if he’s just trying to drive me away for my own good, as I did to him when I was sick. The irony of that doesn’t escape me.

I learned one thing from Kai, one unshakeable truth. People stay together and stay true only as long as they both want to. And all the promises in the world don’t change the length of time. Nothing comes with a guarantee. Maybe I’m just lucky I have a few months with March to remember.

With some effort, I go on, “It’s just a temporary measure to help you cope. Unless . . . you want to go.”

These words stick in my throat as if they’re spined. “If you do, then you can walk. Things have changed.”

He gives a sharp nod. “It’s not fair to you.”

That’s the last thing I expect to hear. Mary, we’re so alike in some ways—it’s frightening. But because I understand why he’s thinking along those lines, I won’t react as he did when I thought I might be terminal. I won’t let fear and hurt dictate my response to him.

This is also reassuring. If the March I love were entirely annihilated, he wouldn’t care whether it was fair or not. He wouldn’t care about me in any capacity. His vague guilt tells me that some of his emotions must be connecting on some level. Guilt is probably the hardest to eradicate, being the most wretched thing a person can feel.

I’m not the nurturing sort, though. So I poke at him. “Oh, is that your issue? Then we may as well call it.

Because Mary knows, I can’t function without constant coddling. You’d better head for Nicuan, so I can latch onto the next poor sucker who will prop me up emotionally.”

“You think this is funny?” he demands.

I shuffle my feet. “A little.”

“It took Mair a turn to unscramble my brain,” he tells me in a dead whisper. “I spent three months tied because she knew I’d try to kill her—and anyone else I could get my hands on—because they wanted to help me, transform me. Do you understand what I’m saying, Jax?”

My knees feel weak, so I sink down into a chair at last, eyes locked on his. “You didn’t want to be fixed.”

“Now you get it,” he bites out. “And this . . . this is ten times worse.”

“Why?” I lean forward, elbows on my knees.

His face seems strange and sharp, new hollows that I don’t remember. It’s almost as though he’s turning into someone else physically as well. The longer hair adds to that impression. March was always neat, shaved, and shorn. His jaw bristles with black scruff this evening, two or three days’ worth at least.

He terrifies me.

“Because I don’t have voices driving me crazy anymore. I can block now. That makes me the perfect killer, no remorse, just the satisfaction of seeing the light leave somebody’s eyes. And I’m good at it,” he adds deliberately as if he wants to shock me.

“You’ve had practice,” I answer quietly.

“There’s no pain anymore. No fear. I don’t care about anything but what I want. I don’t have people hanging on me, asking me what they should do. Know what’s more? The longer I stay like this, the more I like it. This is freedom . . . and I could make a fortune on Nicuan. Live like a king.”

To hear March talking like this breaks my heart. Even if his body didn’t die, the hero I first admired, then later adored, perished on Lachion. The irony is that the old Jax probably would’ve had a hell of a good time with him. She didn’t care about consequences or promises; she didn’t care about anything outside her tiny world. She just wanted to chart beacons and have a good time.

I’m not that woman anymore.

Outwardly, I make myself shrug. My indifference is pure façade, a pretense he could dispel with a quick mental touch, but he doesn’t. There’s no telltale tingle on the nape of my neck, no chill that signifies his presence.

“The choice is yours. But if you’re so bad now, why haven’t you hurt me?”

His smile chills me. “Two reasons, baby. I haven’t been paid to, and you haven’t given a reason. Yet. If you were smart, you’d release me from that promise before I lose my patience. In the meantime, we can still have a physical relationship,” he goes on. “What was it you said when I was so desperate for you?

Mary, I was so fucking pathetic then. Oh yeah. I’d just be using you for sex.”