Finally, she reached her quarters and slid open the door. She’d only be gone for the day so there wasn’t much packing to be done. She threw a bag onto the bed and started to gather what little she needed. A few snacks, a supply of water, a tablet to reference what she found, she could probably borrow a gun from Corra. And of course, before she left, she’d have to make sure everything for Kalli was squared away.

Currently, the little girl was across the hall with Cyrus. Cyrus, who was a whole other can of worms right now. Fleetingly, Addy paused to look out into the hallway and the closed door, a knot in her chest.

They hadn’t fought about staying aboard the Beacon for the time-being instead of returning to Archeti. They hadn’t even talked about it. Gods, they’d barely talked at all since that one awful fight back at Eriaas’ mansion, except about their daughter. Kalli, as always, was the one safe subject, the topic they always agreed on and understood entirely. It only became so blindingly apparent when they agreed on absolutely nothing else.

Neither of them had said anything about how long they would be staying. Neither of them had brought up the fact that Cyrus had quietly chosen quarters separate from hers. Neither of them had commented that they had seemed to be taking their meals at different times. They spoke for over an hour while trying to find Kalli’s lost purple dragon toy, but neither Cyrus nor Addy seemed willing to address the fact that their relationship was quietly falling apart.

Addy was still frozen in place, staring at Cyrus’ door when that very door suddenly slid open and Cyrus emerged from inside. Quickly, she looked away, but not quite quickly enough for him not to notice.

“We got a landspout,” he said, leaning in the doorway. Code for when their tiny tornado had worn herself out into a far lesser threat. Kalli was asleep. Addy smiled.

“What did you two get up to this morning?”

Cyrus shrugged and meandered a few steps into the room, his fingers still trailing on the doorframe. “A spaceship landed on a remote planet covered in dirty laundry and was eaten by a three-headed monster. We avenged it.”

“The usual, then.”

“The usual,” Cyrus agreed, but then his eyes traveled down to where her hand was still halfway in the bag she was packing. “You, uh, going somewhere?”

“Uh, yeah,” Addy answered, hesitantly closing the bag. “Corra’s got this mission, I’m gonna help out a bit.” Cyrus eyed the bag, then her and nodded slowly, his lips held a little too tight to be natural. He was hiding something. Not very well, when did he ever? But there was something he was holding back. Something he was doing a lot lately. Anger, maybe. Frustration? Disappointment? It made Addy’s heart wrench more than she’d anticipated, seeing whatever words and feelings he held go unspoken, unaddressed. And suddenly she did something she wasn’t expecting.

“I was actually going to ask if you wanted to come too.”

Cyrus looked up at her, surprised as she was at the invitation. “Come with you?”

“Yeah,” she said, sticking to it regardless. “It’s a simple thing. Just reading some old books, digging for information, the likes. Nothing all that dangerous, just research.” She let out a chuckle. “All us nerds are good for.”

Cyrus returned the laugh half-heartedly, but shook his head. “I should stay here and look after Kalli.”

Of course he should, that was Addy’s plan after all. In the end, there was no better babysitter than Kalli’s own father while she was away. But without thinking, she shook her head and said, “Alyx can watch her.”

He was now eying her warily. “I don’t know, she might be a bit much for Alyx…”

“Well there’s Daelen or Cai–”

“She’s a bit much for anyone who’s not used to her.”

“Then they can trade off.” Addy dropped the bag back on the bed and walked over to him. “Come on. Come with me. It’ll be fun.”

He wasn’t looking at her at all anymore. Instead, he was staring at her bag with a slight crease in his brow. Finally, he glanced her way and asked, “Do you really want me to come with you?” in the kind of tone that implied he couldn’t possibly believe that she did.

The question drove a spike of pain through her chest. They truly were falling apart. And as little as she’d recognized it lately and as little as she’d allowed herself to care, suddenly she cared. She cared a lot. Cyrus was by no means perfect and as of late, he’d been so far and distant from her, she had started to forget how deep that caring went. Once upon a time they’d been two happy fools falling madly in love as they ventured across the Span, facing danger at every turn. It seemed so long ago now, but for the first time, it occurred to her that maybe she didn’t want to have an adventure in order to get away from Cyrus. Maybe she wanted an adventure to try and get Cyrus, the one she’d fallen for, back.

Carefully, she stepped towards him and took both his wrists in hers. “I do,” she told him, meeting his stare. “I really do.”

She tried not to smile as his cheeks turned a shade of pink she hadn’t seen in years and he looked down at his feet. “I dunno, Adds, it could be dangerous, I mean–”

“A library?” She scoffed. “Dangerous? Cy.” She lifted a hand to his cheek. “What happened to the fearless ‘terror of the Span’ who used to call me from the middle of secret anti-Society missions? Or write me messages from the far edges of space? Or take me on dates to dangerous gang-ridden areas of town?”

Cyrus sputtered his indignation. “That was an accident!”

Addy laughed and cupped his other cheek. “Please, Cy. Come with me. On this daring trip to the library. Please.” The smile dropped a little from her face as she said, “We need this…”

He still looked reluctant. He definitely didn’t look happy. He didn’t even look like he agreed. But finally, to Addy’s great relief, he slipped his arms delicately around her waist and kissed her forehead. “Alright. If it’s that important to you, I’ll come.” She grinned and was about to pull his face towards hers for a real kiss, when he grinned mischievously and added, “But you get to break the tornado warning to Alyx.”

Corra lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “Carthis doesn’t have allies themselves, but they’ve made no indication they’re outright opposed to them either. If they want to take Ellegy and, more importantly, hold Ellegy, they’re gonna have to leave some things alone to appease its people. What easier thing to leave than the centuries old system of power and abuse they love so much?” Finn opened his mouth again, but Corra cut him off, “And no, Fiear’s supporting the Ellegian rebels who want to keep the place exactly as is sans Society control. There are a lot of sides in this conflict, but none of them care about my side.”

Finn propped his head in his hand and frowned thoughtfully at her. “Y’know, for someone who’s been gone five years, you sure as hell know a lot about what you missed.”

Corra just chuckled. “I wasn’t around, but I wasn’t gone. This territory war isn’t my concern, but the human impact is. And my friends’ lives are. I’ve helped out where I could.”

“Helped? Raisa said you were buried deep in the ally trade, getting yourself sold and bought by top-shelf assholes.”

“I was. But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t slip some intel the Dionysian’s way here or there. Or that I couldn’t convince a contact to send some work to the Beacon.” Her small smile spread into a grin. “Or have Leta convince Fiear to attack the absolute perfect diversion for my own missions.”

Finn returned her grin. “Devious. I like it.”

Corra released a long sigh and leaned back against the couch. “I mean, you can’t just abandon your flock entirely. Who knows what they’d get up to without you?”

“S’pose that’s true. When I left Fiear alone, he started a war.”

Corra grimaced. “That he did.” A moment of silence fell before she finally mustered up enough courage to ask, “You two doing okay?”

Finn looked amused. “You make us sound like a bickering married couple.”

“Aren’t you?”

“We’re fine, as far as I know.”

Corra leaned forward and rested her chin in her hand. “He doesn’t mind your –uh– less than enthusiastic feelings about that war you mentioned? Couldn’t help but notice this ship’s steered pretty clear of any battlefronts.”

“Being able to do so is a luxury I’m not willing to sacrifice,” Finn muttered. “Besides, this boat is a mess, you said it yourself. What help would we be to the great Soliveré fleet?” He let out a laugh that Corra got the feeling held a tinge of bitterness, but whether or not that bitterness was aimed at the fleet or the state of the ship, she couldn’t begin to guess.

“We’re still friends, if that’s what you’re asking,” he went on. “We talk, occasionally meet up, though less than we used to. Busy man and all. But does he hate me for wanting to keep my nose out of it all? I don’t think so. He asked us if we were interested in helping exactly once, many years ago.”

“And what’d you tell him?”

“That I’ve lost my taste for violence.” Finn smirked darkly.

Corra couldn’t ignore the lump that formed quite suddenly in her throat. She didn’t need to hear him say why. She knew why. The day still played out in perfect recollection in her own head every so often, just as it was now. The day Archeti fell, at the time, felt like a blur, but years later every detail was in focus. Every mistake she had made. And everything she could have done to change the outcome.

She forced herself to swallow the lump, but when she spoke, all she managed was, “That’s understandable,” and even those words came out dry and brittle.

Finn’s face flashed momentary realization and for a second she thought she saw a hint of apology, but he hurried onward, “But really, how much good could we do, anyway? The Beacon’s barely afloat as it is.”

“Yeah,” Corra agreed instantly, nodding perhaps a little too enthusiastically. “Definitely.” An awkward silence hung in the air as Corra tried to recompose herself. She could feel Finn watching her with interest, but she couldn’t meet his stare, instead locking her eyes on her own hand, tense and clenched at her side.

Finally, at last, she drew a deep breath. “Well. I did a little research on this archive and the Transmitter and all. Want to help me draw out a plan of attack?”

She could have sworn she saw brief disappointment cross his face, but Finn smiled and leaned forward in his chair. “Let’s do it. Tell me what you got.” The smile grew a little wider. “I gotta say, cap’n. I’m lookin’ forward to working with you again.”

Corra regarded him curiously, but then a mischeivous smile formed on her own face. “Yeah? Let’s get through this briefing and see how you feel after, hm?”

—————

Addy trotted down the stairs to the lower deck, purpose in her step. She was full of energy, more than she had been in weeks — months, even. For the first time in ages, she was excited for something. Something that wasn’t just another boring budget meeting or planning committee negotiation or even the grand opening of a new business which was, pathetically, the most exciting event that happened on Archeti as of late.

No, for once, she was excited for something different. An adventure, like the old days. Corra had just finished laying it out to her: the Beacon would be touching down on the very moon they’d only escaped from days previous, though fortunately the other end of it. Finn and Corra themselves would seek out the mysterious archive Eriaas had mentioned to search for the artifact the Society had been so interested in. But as they did that, they needed someone to scour the archive itself, the books, for clues.

Addy had said yes before Corra had even finished asking.

She turned around in alarm and marched back up the stairs. Fiearius, who seemed to have been dazing off waiting for her, perked up and followed, his mouth half-forming a question that never quite got out. Before he got the chance, Leta demanded of the guard, “What were you just saying?”

The woman looked startled and then embarrassed and then quickly nervous. “N-nothing, miss,” she explained hurriedly. “Just idle gossip, won’t happen again, miss.”

Leta shook her head in frustration. “No, no, it’s important. What you said. Gates slipping out in the last course?”

Now the poor woman simply seemed confused. “Wh — yes, miss. The schedule indicated Admiral Gates would be discreetly departing early as always.”

“Always?” Fiearius asked, finally seeming to somewhat catch-up in the conversation.

“The Admiral tends to always leave these functions early, sir. The first rank guards that watch him are only ever scheduled until dessert.”

The panic that had been slowly rising in Leta hit its peak. “The assassin had to act before dessert–” she breathed.

“Because he’d be gone after,” Fiearius finished for her, eyes widen.

“But now–”

They both swung their heads toward the ballroom floor where front and center, Admiral Gates was back to his duties, already deep in some political discussion with his fellow military brass.

Fiearius was the first to react.

“You two,” he ordered to the guards, “With us.” He marched down the stairs, Leta on his heel. Together they pressed through the crowd, side-stepping guests who were laughing, drinking, singing — they had no idea an assassin was among them.

Adrenaline surged through her and Leta had half a mind to yell to Gates across the room, but then she glimpsed it, in the corner of her eye: a flash of black metal. A gun. It was locked in a man’s hand, at his side, moving in and out of sight as its holder marched toward Gates through the crowd.

Shock bolted through her veins. Her hands reached for Fiearius’ arm, and then, before she could think to do otherwise, she pushed herself forward and seized the weapon and the man’s forearm in one motion. Gritting her teeth, she twisted his hand hard, drawing the weapon away. Fiearius was yelling her name as the guests jumped back, a chorus of screams erupting around her. The assassin wrestled his hand back, growling furiously to free himself, but in the back of Leta’s mind, she knew she’d done it. She’d already drawn enough attention to him.

“Over here!” a  guard yelled over the fray, while another gasped, “Grab him!”  In a flash, the man was ripped  backwards, his grip freeing from the gun. Leta saw that Fiearius had swung his forearm hard against the man’s throat, dragging him away. The assassin struggled furiously against Fiearius, but his efforts died off when the guards arrived, parting the crowd.

Shock drowned out sound in Leta’s ears as she watched, transfixed. It happened in slow motion: Fiearius stepped away, chest heaving hard; the guards withdrew their weapons, then forced the assassin against a wall, and seized his wrists with metal restraints.

Awed murmurs rippled through the crowd — horrified, confused, even some drunkenly excited at all the commotion. But when the guards escorted the assassin from the room, the scene somehow became a lot more chaotic. She lost sight of Gates who was being flocked to in worry by everyone in the room who needed to earn his favor. She even lost sight of Fiearius amongst the clammer.

She was vaguely aware that people were talking to her, clapping her on the back, congratulating her on a job well done. How brave, they said. How selfless. What a relief she was here to act.

But she’d gotten lucky, said the cold, logical voice in her head. That was all. They’d accidentally forced the assassin to act sloppily, and caught him in a desperate act. If they’d been off at all, the assassin would have done his job quickly and quietly in the mansion somewhere, not desperate and urgent in the middle of the dance floor, not sure he’d get another chance before his target disappeared. Dazed, all Leta could focus on was her own breath, still shorter than it should be, and her own heartbeat, still pounding away in her chest relentlessly.

She was also vaguely aware of the gun she’d wrestled away still sitting heavy and cold in her hand. Part of her wanted to just hand it to someone to get it away from her, but another part, the part she recognized as the one that had spent too much time in the company of space pirates on the Dionysian, wanted to grip it tighter.

Slowly, she began to drift out of her daze and then, much more suddenly, she was dragged out of it by a frantic tugging on her arm. Shaking her head, she forced herself back into the moment and found herself face to face with Liam, whose face was stark white.

“–hear me? Leta? Are you okay?” he was saying, grasping her hands in his.

“Fine,” she said. Realizing she’d sounded a bit harsh, said again, more softly, “I’m fine. Really. I–”

But Liam looked as alarmed as she’d ever seen him, his eyes frantic. He held her elbows and drew her closer.

“Leta, you need to listen to me, right now. I found something,” he explained breathlessly, starting to steer her away from the fray. “When you were gone, I followed someone, I found — ”

“Liam, liam, it’s okay,” she interrupted, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s all taken care of. He’s in custody. He failed. Everything’s okay. The guards have the assassin.”

But to her growing dismay, his response was not, “Oh thank goodness.” Nor was it any sort of relief at all. He simply knit his brow, confused.

“Assassin? What? No, I don’t know anything about–” He shook his head furiously. “Leta, there was this man that stuck out to me. I shadowed him for a while. He seemed normal enough, but he went upstairs, I thought why the heck not, and I followed him and he made a call. I heard the whole thing.”

“What thing?”

“It was–about you. About Soliveré. That you didn’t know–Something with–Ascendia? And Vescent and Ellegy and –They said things about–” He was stumbling over his words, speaking too fast, but he came to a sharp halt and heaved a deep breath. “He’s a Councillor, Leta. A Society Councillor is here.”

Leta felt as though all the blood in her body had turned cold. Her grip on Liam’s shoulder tightened and she leaned towards him as she hissed, “What? How do you–Are you sure?”

“Positive, without a doubt,” Liam answered without skipping a beat. “I know what I heard. He’s a Councillor.”

“Who is?”

Liam opened his mouth, but words didn’t come out. He frantically looked around the two of them, his head whipping back and forth until finally it stopped and his wide eyes grew wider. “Him,” he breathed and Leta followed his line of sight to, “The one talking to Soliveré.”

Not just talking to Soliveré. Smiling with Soliveré, laughing with Soliveré. The two of them seemed to be sharing some cordial joke or story like any of the vague, polite society acquaintances at this party. And then the man, who looked no more interesting than any other middle-aged man in attendance, reached up his hand and let it drop affectionately on Soliveré’s shoulder. His fingers tightened. And that was when Leta had to do something.

What, however, was another matter.

“Fiearius!” she shouted to him without even thinking. He looked over at her, surprised. So did the man beside him. And before she could even consider reason or logic or the best plan of action, she remembered the gun in her hand. Almost of its own accord, it lifted into the air.

A loud bang and a cacophony of gasps filled the ballroom.

“So I ask again. I’ve built a good relationship with the rebel leader.” Fiearius brought his forearms against his knees, leaning in.  “They’re on our side, they’re ready to take our orders, you signed off on this course of action, so why are you trying to hire a Vescentian tourist as our strategic team’s Ellegian expert?”

Gates met Fiearius’ stare coolly. “Unfortunately, the president–”

“Oh, fuck,” Fiearius growled preemptively, dropping his head in his hands.

“–has deemed the rebel forces on Ellegy too risky of an investment.”

“Of course.” Fiearius slapped the arm of his chair dramatically before rising to his feet and starting to pace again. “Of course, they’re too risky. Because they might pose a threat to your little expanding empire.”

“We’ve been ordered to cease contact with them immediately and any further relay of confidential plans is prohibited.”

“I can’t believe th–no, actually–no, I can believe this. I can completely believe this. I knew you would pull this shit before the time came.” He clenched a fist and somehow held off on punching a hole in the wall with it. “Gods forbid there’s anyone at the end of this who you owe anything to.”

Leta watched Fiearius as he tore across the room, a barely contained tornado of rage, but when she spared a glance at Gates, feeling her own spike of anger (it was going to be just like Vescent, like Ascendia, all over again, wasn’t it?), she didn’t see the man she expected. She thought she’d find Admiral Kaiser Gates, stern, resilient and, as always, uninterested in his counterpart’s opinion of Carthian policies. Instead, she saw Admiral Kaiser Gates, hesitant and thoughtful, like he didn’t really think cutting off the rebels was a very good idea either.

“–waiting for the day it’s my turn,” Fiearius was still ranting across the room. “When’s that order going to come from the president? Put Soliveré on the chopping block, he’s ‘too risky’, he’s–”

“Fiear,” Leta interrupted, softly, but he heard her. His fists were still clenched in frustration when he turned to look at her, but his anger lessened in her gaze. He glanced at Gates who met his eyes firmly, then back at Leta whose mouth tightened a little at the corner, and then finally he turned away entirely.

“This is ridiculous,” he declared. “The assassin’s probably long gone by now. He failed his mission over an hour ago, I’m not waiting here any longer.”

This time, no one argued as he marched towards the heavy security door, unlocked the bolts, swung it open and walked out.

Leta stayed where she was another long moment, watching the man still beside her, unflinching and unmoving. She released a small sigh before rising to her feet and following Fiearius back upstairs.

——————

Fiearius stood on the edge of the party, jaw tightened, expression unreadable as he leaned his shoulder against a pillar. Leta stood beside him, silent for several minutes as she watched couples glide through the dance floor, though she wasn’t really seeing them. Her mind was back in the panic room, considering what Gates had said.

“What do you think changed their mind?” she asked finally, her voice an undertone.

“They found out,” Fiearius answered. He didn’t look away from the dance floor as he spoke.

“About the rebels meeting with Dez?” Leta guessed. “How?”

“Who knows? They’ve got spies everywhere. On Ellegy, surely. Could have planted one inside the rebel cell itself. Hell, maybe even my pretty you-clone watcher’s been digging through my messages when I’m not looking, what difference does it make? If they know, that alliance is dead,” Fiearius growled under his breath. “I told him not to. I told him it was too big a chance.”

“But he met with them anyway,” Leta sighed. “And now Carthis thinks the Ellegian rebels are in league with terrorists.”

Fiearius groaned. “How many times do I have to tell you, Dez and his people–”

“Aren’t terrorists, I know,” Leta cut in. “Weren’t responsible for the bombings, didn’t cause the transit meltdown, are just easy scapegoats, I know, I know. But you told me yourself what they have done.” She raised her brows at him pointedly. “And none of it Carthis would approve of. So I’d venture a guess that the Ellegy meeting–”

Fiearius was already shaking his head and sighing. “Not good. Yeah. I know.”

They fell into a thoughtful silence again before Leta mused, “Do you know what they’re planning?”

“Not a clue.”

Leta paused. Then a smirk twisted her lips. “Well, maybe when we get back to the ship, we should call the rebel leader and ask.”

Fiearius shot her a look of amazement. “Call the rebels? Despite Carthis’ very clear prohibition on contacting them? You, newest member of the strategic team, breaking the rules? Already?”

Leta blinked slowly, full of innocence. “Prohibition? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never got any messages mentioning a prohibition, did you?”

Fiearius barked a laugh and then wound his arm around her, drawing her to his side warmly. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

Leta grinned, dropping her eyes to the floor. After a moment, her brow creased and she ventured, “About that me-clone spy. You haven’t…?”

Fiearius glanced down at her wryly. “Just who do you think I am?”

“Well then, that was a nice break.” Leta glanced back at Gates just as Fiearius let his arm drop to his side and took a step away. The older admiral looked between them, a little too knowingly, Leta thought, before walking straight through the space Fiearius had left beside her. “Back to work then?”

“Back to work,” Fiearius sighed in agreement as he and Leta followed the man back out of the hallway. Still standing by the entrance were the guards they’d had posted there before secluding themselves.

“Anything weird happen while we were gone?” Leta asked the woman and she dutifully shook her head.

“Nothing out of the ordinary at all, miss.”

“And isn’t that a relief,” Leta muttered under her breath. Fiearius snorted his agreement and held out his arm for her to take as they walked down the steps towards the main ballroom.

“I suppose I’ll have to look into the who’s, what’s and how’s of this little ordeal, but for now I’m thinking a drink is in order,” he said, faking a posh nobleman’s accent as best his working-class Satierian tongue could manage. “Do you concur, dear lady?”

“A drink wouldn’t go amiss,” Leta admitted though she paused halfway down the stairwell to peer out over the crowd. “I should probably find my date though.” Fiearius made a sort of disgruntled noise, but fell obediently silent as she searched the room for a sight of Liam. Hopefully he would forgive her for abandoning him for so long in the middle of a gala. Maybe he’d be more willing if, as soon as she found him, she told him they could leave the gala.

She had just thought she caught sight of a familiar face when a voice behind her slowly drifted into her conscious awareness. “–whole schedule’s off now,” the voice was saying. One of the guards she’d just spoken to. “Admirals need a lot of protecting I guess so the first rank’s gonna be pulling overtime to accommodate. And you can guess how happy Lady Illusán about that.”

“Not,” said the other guard with a snort.

Leta didn’t understand why she suddenly felt a need to listen in on this conversation about the budget and schedules of the hired security. It certainly wasn’t interesting, but something compelled her to pay attention when the first guard went on, “Precisely. I mean the lot of them were supposed to be let off-duty when Gates slipped out in the last course, but now–”

And just as suddenly, Leta was very glad she did.