Page 57 of Phoenix's Last Heist
Evie takes it in stride, but straightens up to pepper me with yet another line of questions. It’s a wonder she has time to draw breath between her stories, jokes, and incessant curiosity.
“What is it that made you want to become a ranger? Is that just a job for you, or is it more like a calling?”
I consider my answer for some time, but for all her energy, she’s patient while she waits.
“It’s a little of both,” I reply, reaching for one of the small, round flatbreads stacked up between us. “Things on Xylothia aren’t as dire as other worlds, but we’re not really thriving, either. Birth rates have dropped over the last few generations and it seems like the whole planet feels us faltering. My ancestors were so closely connected to the natural world but we’ve lost a lot of their knowledge. Everyone wants answers and no one knows where to start looking.”
Evie’s eyes widen and she flags down a Dreller carrying a plate of what look like pastries without breaking my gaze.
“I’m sorry,” she says, plonking a sugar-dusted bun onto my recently emptied plate, then hands me a second with a pitying look. “I can’t imagine having to watch your world collapse in slow motion.”
I shrug, but her kindness nearly chokes me up.
“I suppose I thought I might find some of the answers everyone’s looking for if I returned to the places our ancestors flourished. Spend time in the forests around the temples, keep the ancient settlements safe and protected. Perhaps I was hoping if I spent my life serving my ancestors, they’d give me some guidance,” I explain, unable to keep the bitterness from my tone, despite the pastry’s cloying sweetness.
“And have they?” she asks.
“They’re as silent as the ruined temples,” I admit. “I don’t know. That’s probably why I felt a spark of hope when Lyra crashed in.”
“How so?”
Because she makes me feel things I thought I’d never feel for anyone. Because there’s a chance she might be my perfect mate. Because for all her faults, she makes me hope for myself, for my future, and for my world. Because I didn’t fall in love with her—I plummeted into obsession with her, and when this cursed journey is over, I want to do everything in my power to stay with her. All things I’m not about to say to a relative stranger, because it’s gutting to even admit them to myself. The strength of my need staggers me—disturbs me—and I still don’t know that Lyra won’t try to eject me into the cold vacuum of space if it’s convenient for her to do so. What’s worse—if she did, I’d still probably blow her a kiss and thank her for the privilege.
“Because maybe now I can make a difference. For the first time in years, I finally have enough leverage to make one of these thieves help me put a stop to the systematic plundering of my cultural heritage,” I say, which—while not the whole truth, is a distant cousin to it.
Evie smirks, obviously sensing the lie, but her smile falls when she catches sight of something over my shoulder.
Oh no. Oh, please no.
Lyra stands in the doorway to the mess hall, clutching an empty tray to her chest.
15
lyra
Leverage? Or Love-rage?
Leverage.
The word drops like a stone in my gut, but instead of the fury I should feel at Orion’s casual dismissal, I simply feel…sad.
No, that’s not quite right—there’s nothing simple about the maelstrom of emotions surging in my mind and body. Shame, humiliation, regret, and anger wage war for second place, while nausea roils and the scrape of betrayal burns over my skin.
For a moment, I’m paralyzed. Evie and Orion gape at me in horror—the remark clearly not meant for my ears. I consider fleeing to my ship, but it’s still in the launch bay undergoing repairs. Ialsoconsider smashing my tray into Orion’s handsome face, but even that fantasy feels hollow. Thinking about making him bleed disturbs me, but maybe that’s because mere hours ago, all I could think about was making him come.
Since fighting and fleeing are well off the table, I’ve got one remaining F-option: food. That was the whole reason why I’d found my way to the mess hall, anyway—Evie’s lecture hit a little too close to home and mid-sulk, I realized I hadn’t eatenanything in a day. I’d hoped part of the hurt I felt was down to an empty stomach and low blood sugar, so venturing to the ship’s cafeteria had seemed like the most logical choice.
Not even carbs will be able to soothe me now—those jerks.
Evie’s anger I can understand. We have this sort of history and it’s not like I’ve been the best friend to her lately, but Orion’s…well.I’m probably just getting what I asked for—what I deserve.After all, I’m the one who told him it didn’t have to mean anything, and who knows if he was telling the truth about myvellia.Maybe our close proximity over the last few weeks has led to some kind of cumulative effect on his libido, or something. I don’t know enough about Xylothians to know how they respond to Velusians in general.Apparently, I don’t know anything about Xylothians, since the fucker can talk to plants, I think bitterly.
Blinking slowly, I turn to the various food stations running down the middle of the mess hall and absent-mindedly start filling my tray. I’m disgusted to realize I only have myself to blame for this—for my actions toward Evie and my distance from Orion. Despite the sting, the sour-tasting loneliness of it all, it reminds me of what I’ve already believed all along.
It’s me on my own.
Exhaling shakily, I return to the task at hand. On my plate, I heap piles of filament-thin black noodles covered in a bright purple sauce, three different kinds of bread, thick cuts of meat drizzled in savory blue gravy, steamed vegetables I don’t recognize, and creamy kreshaan puree—Evie’s favorite from Terrin-4. The smell is incredible, but the nausea my emotions have summoned makes the meal as unappetizing as what I’m about to do next.
“Is this seat taken?” I ask, dropping onto the bench next to Orion and across from Evie. It took a moment’s calculation, butI knew I wouldn’t be able to meet Orion’s green gaze without having a complete emotional breakdown.
