But when he finally spoke, what he said was, “This sounds an awful lot like our last operation to Satieri. We lost a lot of ships and a lot of people on that mission. We can’t risk another distraction like that.” Leta felt her heart start to plummet. “We’ll move forward with Strategist Arsen’s plan for the comprehensive assault.” As a smug grin pulled across Arsen’s face, Leta started collecting every argument she had. Every reason she could give. She had to change his mind, she had to make this work, she–

“However.” Gates’ voice broke through her concentration. “I’m not going to stop you from seeking him out if you choose.” He met her wide eyes with his own calm stare. “You’ll have to find your own way, but if you truly believe you can do it, I suggest you go now so that you’ll have a few hours headstart.”

Leta didn’t realize her mouth had fallen open, but she shut it immediately and nodded. It wasn’t the ideal plan, but it was something. It was a chance. She’d take it. “Alright. I’ll go right away.”

“Keep in touch,” Gates advised. “If the situation changes, I want to know.” She nodded again.

“I’ll go with you,” Cyrus put in suddenly, straightening beside her.

“Cy–” She wanted to argue. What about Addy? Kalli? Flying to Satieri was going to be dangerous. Finding Fiearius could be dangerous. How could he risk everything like that? But she had no arguments to give when he fixed her with a serious stare and said, “He’s my brother, Leta. I’m coming with you.”

All Leta could do was nod as a thousand things ran through her head. Preparations that needed to be made. Things she needed to take with her. How they were going to get there. Where they were going to find him. What she was going to say to him once they did–

But for now, one thing at a time.

She looked to Cyrus. “We need a ship.”

——————–

“Alright, don’t run her too hard, she can start showing up on monitoring if her power gets too low,” Corra warned, flicking another switch on the Spirit’s control console. “But sail her steady and she’ll get you to the surface without a hitch. Not even the most advanced systems out of Ellegy can pick her up.”

Leta nodded though she wasn’t sure the information had made even the briefest pit-stop in her head as it blew in one ear and out of the other. She hoped Cyrus was paying more attention as he was going to be flying the tiny ship out of the Beacon’s docking port and down to Satieri. He was poised over the console, scanning over the control panels as Corra ran him through them.

Logically, Leta knew this briefing was necessary. Of course, she wanted her pilot to know what he was doing. But each passing second was one more second Fiearius could be in grave danger. Their journey had been made easier by the Beacon ferrying them to the outer edges of Satierian space, a favor Corra and Finn had agreed to before Cyrus had even asked. Still, the Spirit had a ways to go and the longer Corra spoke, the longer that trip would be.

“–eta?”

Leta looked up, startled to be drawn out of her thoughts, to find Corra staring at her, worried. “You alright?”

Alright was not a word Leta would choose. She felt like she was in a haze, as though the past few days were nothing but a strange dream she couldn’t wake up from. From the moment she heard that knock on the door all the way to now, crammed into a ship that was about to fly her back to the front lines of Satieri, none of it felt real. She did not feel alright, but swallowing the lump in her throat, she nodded anyway.

Corra didn’t seem convinced, but thankfully she didn’t argue. Instead, she stepped forward and put her arms around Leta’s shoulders and squeezed. “It’s gonna be fine,” her friend assured her in a confident whisper, but Leta didn’t believe the words, not entirely.

But she didn’t argue either as Corra stepped back and smiled at her kindly. Behind her, Cyrus’ family had somehow managed to wiggle inside to say their goodbyes and good lucks. Kalli was crying, attached to her father’s leg with all of her usual tenacity as he stroked her hair. Addy, Leta noticed, was not. She crouched face to face with him, her hands on his shoulders and a sort of adoring pride in her eyes as she whispered words of assurance Leta couldn’t hear. They kissed. Kalli wailed a few protests. And they exited through the hatch.

Finn peeked his head in afterwards. “You’re gonna do great, you guys. When you see Fiear, tell him ‘fuck you’ for putting us through all this.”

For the first time in days, a smile came to Leta’s face. She waved a two-fingered goodbye to him as he disappeared and Corra drew in a deep breath. “Alright. You should head out. Carthis won’t be far behind us I’m sure. We’ll stay close so if anything happens, if anything goes wrong, say the word and we’ll be there.”

Thank you, Leta wanted to say, but words were dried up in her throat. Corra gripped both of their hands tight before she walked backwards out of the Spirit and shut the airlock door, plunging the ship into silence.

Then, moments later, Cyrus drew in a deep breath, spun around in his chair and engaged the ship. The overhead lights switched off. The engine let out a quiet hum. The Beacon’s airlock clunked as it detached. And outside the viewport, the glowing shape of Satieri swung into view.

Leta didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until Cyrus spoke.

“Kinda familiar, isn’t it?” His tone had the strain of someone who wasn’t in the mood for jokes or trying to make one. “You and me, heading to Satieri to save my brother from the Society?”

Leta tried to laugh a response, but she was even less in the mood than he was. Her first visit to Satieri, many years ago now, was something that still haunted her nightmares regularly. “Hopefully this part is the only part that rings familiar.”

She watched Cyrus swallow hard and shake the thought from his head. “Just like him though,” he muttered under his breath. “Running off on some crazy plan that puts everyone in danger.”

“Cy–”

“I’m not mad,” he clarified. “I mean–I am, but–” His hand absently brushed through his hair. “I just wish it hadn’t come to this.”

“We all wish that.”

The cabin fell into silence again as the conversation lapsed. Outside, the planet was growing by the instant, starting to fill the entire bay window. It was nighttime on the side they were headed towards and though they were still far off, Leta could just make out a blob of glittering lights in the middle of a vast dark desert on the surface.

“You have an address, right?”

The sudden question threw Leta off, but she recovered quickly. “Yeah, I do.”

“We’re sure that’s where we’ll find him?”

No. Nothing was sure at this point. But she said, “I’m sure,” anyway.

Cyrus released a breath and asked the question Leta didn’t want to hear. The one she’d been asking herself constantly. The one that so neatly and perfectly got to the root of all of her worries in six simple words.

“Do you think this will work?”

Honestly, she wasn’t sure. How could she be? Fiearius was already amongst enemies, Leta and Cyrus were headed in right after him and Carthis was on the way to set fire to the whole thing. The odds were not even remotely in their favor. But Leta steeled herself against the wave of bad thoughts, the barrage of everything that could go wrong and gave the answer they both needed to hear. The only thing that kept her feeling motivated as they sped straight into the lion’s den.

“It has to.”

“Doctor,” came Gates’ booming voice. “While we no doubt appreciate your expertise on Soliveré and his motivations, we cannot, at this point, do anything less than assume and prepare for the worst. You yourself indicated that Soliveré could theoretically take command of some portion of the Society’s forces using his Verdant access–”

“Yes, but he wouldn’t use them to attack you!” Leta ran her hand down her face. How could these people not understand this? “Fiearius only ever has one priority: to keep his people alive. You already blew up the most important ones. If he’s gone to Satieri and if he’s taken command of the Society fleet, he’s done so to stop you from blowing up the rest. That’s it. This is simple.”

Arsen’s eyes narrowed. “Your level of trust is surely admirable, Doctor, but it is not a level we all share.”

“Seriously?” Cyrus barked. “After everything he’s done for you? You’re just going to write him off that quickly.”

“Again, I ask why this man is even here–”

“For all you know, Fiear’s plan is to your benefit,” Leta argued. “Maybe what he’s doing is intended to help.”

“If he’s trying to help, then why wouldn’t he simply tell us the plan before betraying us?” Arsen snapped back.

Before Leta could even open her mouth to reply, Gates added, “Better yet, why wouldn’t he tell you?” and her protests instantly died on her tongue.

Of course, Leta knew how this looked. Fiearius had spent the night with her. He’d confessed his feelings for her. He’d laid in bed with her, tangled in her limbs for hours. And then he’d left. Leta would never think of herself as a spurned woman in any sense of the word, but by the way the Carthian officials had looked at her when she’d claimed innocence of his plans told her quite clearly that that was the exact description they’d assigned her. Even now, as Gates looked at her, she was sure he could see the hurt he expected to see in her expression reflected right back at him.

“If we are done with interruptions,” Gates went on, authority in every word, “I would like to resolve on a solid plan. We’ve wasted enough time already and while I understand that Admiral Soliveré’s motivations are as of yet unverified–” He shot a warning look at Leta. “–I feel we need to assume at the very least that our enemy now has unbridled access to the entirety of our operation’s intel. This leaves us incalculably vulnerable and we must act accordingly.”

Leta tried not to let the smugness in Arsen’s face bother her. “As I stated, before and certainly now, we do not have enough firepower to take on Satieri’s defenses in a head on battle. Our only course of action is a swift attack with everything we’ve got. Approach in full stealth, bombard the surface before they know we’re there. Plunge the ground into so much chaos, they won’t have a chance to meet us in the air.”

“Destroy everything?” Cyrus whispered in disbelief. “That’s your only course of action?”

If Arsen heard him, he didn’t act it. “Phase two, put troops on the ground at various points within the city. Systematically take control of each area, detaining any opposition met along the way. The Society will be too busy scrambling to regroup to put up much of a fight.”

“You’re kidding me.” Cyrus’ voice was louder this time, but still Arsen tuned him out.

“Phase three, storm the Society headquarters. Drop in tech teams to gain access into their main systems, force a surrender.” He almost seemed like he was finished, but then his voice dropped lower to add, “Also in phase three, we should locate and eliminate any remaining enemy leaders including the now identified Councillor E’etan an–” Arsen stopped abruptly. Too abruptly. And, if Leta had really seen what she thought she’d seen — Gates casting him a sharp look across the room — she knew what was supposed to come next.

So did Cyrus.

“And?” He stepped forward to the table, a certain rage in his stance and voice that instantly reminded Leta of his elder sibling. “And who? Who else are you planning on eliminating?”

Arsen gave Cyrus about a half second of attention before looking to Admiral Gates. “As chief strategist, I maintain that the presented proposal is the only course of action that will lead to our victory against the Society’s final stronghold.”

“The only way you can win is to kill my brother and everyone else on that planet.” Cyrus was done making snarky comments in the background. His voice rang loud over the room now. “How exactly is that a victory?!”

“Give the word and we can begin preparations–”

“ — You can ignore me all you want, but–”

“I recommend a comprehensive launch–”

“I’m not just gonna stand here and let you murder my brother!”

Finally, Arsen snapped. “Your brother is a traitor and he will be dealt with appropriately!” Before Cyrus could get another word in, Arsen had turned to Gates and again demanded, “Can we please all agree that Mr. Soliveré has no business being in this council–”

“Mister?!” Cyrus repeated incredulously. “Fuck you, I have a doctorate!”

“Fine, Dr. Soliveré, please leave before we are inclined to expel you by force.”

“Is that a threat?”

Leta watched the two men, poised like lions ready to pounce on either side of the table, shouting in each other’s faces. She watched the rest of the congregation, looking either nervous or irritated or a mixture of both. She watched Gates as his patience slowly started to wear down inch by inch. Her own patience was starting to grow thin. Her fingers absently massaged circles into her temple. This was wasting time. Time Fiearius didn’t have.

Cyrus and Arsen were shouting now, their voices a cacophony of barely intelligible words. A symphony of their nerves and stress and lack of sleep. And finally Gates spoke up.

“Gentlemen.” He didn’t yell it, but somehow the word boomed above theirs, slicing through the noise and cutting it down the middle. Every pair of eyes in the room shot towards him. “That’s quite enough I think.” No one argued. “Strategist Arsen, I am in full support of your plan. I would like to set it into motion right away.”

“What?!” Cyrus gaped. “You can’t–”

“I understand,” Gates cut him off, shooting him a glare so stern that even Cyrus clamped his mouth shut. “I understand that this plan is upsetting to you. I understand why. But I’m going to ask you this once and you’re going to give me a clear yes or no. Do you have a better option?”

Cyrus stared back at him, but he was silent. No, he didn’t have an option. He didn’t know what to do, just not this. That was the only thing that seemed obvious to him. But in the void of Cyrus’ answer, Leta saw her chance.

“Let me talk to him.”

At once, the attention of the council swung to her, but it was only Gates’ stare she met. He raised his brows at her curiously.

“I know it looks bad, it seems bad,” Leta began, “what Fiearius did, I know. But–you have to understand, that’s just who he is. You back him into a corner, he makes reckless, desperate choices. He always has. I’m not saying what he did was right, though I do think maybe you could have seen this coming. Regardless, yes, he’s incredibly reckless, but he’s not unreasonable. I can talk to him.”

Infuriatingly, Arsen snorted his disbelief. “If he wanted to talk to you, wouldn’t he have returned one of your messages?”

So Carthis had been intercepting the Beacon’s COMM transmissions. Leta made a mental note and then pushed it aside. “Messages are easy to ignore. I need to talk to him face to face.”

“And what exactly do you hope to accomplish?” was Gates’ concern.

“If he’s done what I think and just run off to teach you a lesson, I can get him to come back. If he’s done what you think and switched sides in the war, I can change his mind.” Leta was certain her voice was starting to sound more and more pleading the longer she spoke. “I can reason with him. He’ll listen to me. Just let me talk to him.”

Admiral Gates nodded slowly, crossed his arms over his chest and stared solemnly at the table. Please say yes, Leta begged internally. You need to say yes. Say yes.

“Because you think you’re gonna die soon,” Leta accused, her tone a touch more harsh than she’d intended. “You’re telling me you love me because you think you’re going to die.” She stared at him blankly and he visibly squirmed beneath her gaze.

“Well, yeah, when you say it like that–”

Leta let out a groan and put her hand over her eyes. “Fiearius.”

“Okay, okay, fine, I get it,” he growled under his breath. “Yes, I should have said something earlier. I should have realized earlier. I should have been less of a coward and made less excuses and said something even though there was never a good time, gods Leta, I’ve not told you up to now because frankly, I always think I’m gonna die soon, this isn’t new.

“But you’re right, I should have said something anyway, I should have fixed things and for that matter, I should never have fucked things up between us to begin with. I should have stayed on Vescent with you, I shouldn’t have gotten involved in a war, I should have listened to Aela, I shouldn’t have gone to Satieri, I should and shouldn’t have done a lot of things, and that’s why I’m telling you now, because I can’t add one more thing to that list.”

Finally, the sharpness dropped from his voice as his arms fell back to his side in defeat. “Well. I’m sorry I dumped this on you. I’ll let you be.” He turned from her and headed towards the door. “You should try and get some sleep. I imagine you’ll need it tomorrow.”

Leta couldn’t tell if she was fuming with anger or something else. Now? Really? Selfish was an understatement. And now he was just walking away? He was walking away. She was watching him walk away as she stood there, frozen by indecision. What the hell was she doing?

The door slid open and Fiearius stepped into the hallway, bracing his hand against the frame. Like she was emerging from water, Leta suddenly pulled away from her shock.

“Fiear–”

By the time he’d half-turned back to her, Leta had abandoned her drink, stepped forward authoritatively, captured the sides of his jaw in both her hands, and pulled his lips down against hers. The kiss was hard, clumsy, full.

For seconds, Fiearius stood still — uncomfortably still — bent at an awkward angle and stunned into place. But finally, he responded to her feverish kiss, orienting himself toward her as though he had all the time in the world to do just this: his hand curved against her face, another at her neck, drawing her closer as she sunk against his arms.

It didn’t matter how long it had been, it didn’t matter how far apart they’d ended up, embracing Fiearius always felt natural. The way they fit together as their mouths attacked one another’s and her hands roamed over his shoulders and down his back was nothing less than synchronized. In a way so unlike anything else she had ever experienced, Leta and Fiearius’ bodies spoke the same language.

When their lips gently parted an inch, Leta found she was short of breath. He drew back, though his hands held her steadfast. Still, there was worry in his eyes until she met his stare and grasped him tighter.

“I love you too,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Fiearius’ brows lifted on his forehead in surprise. She felt his hands go still against her shirt. And then he cracked a horribly familiar shit-eating grin and said, “Yeah. I know you do.”

“You — what?!” she snapped, but before she could argue any further, he reclaimed her lips once more, drowning her protests.

In the silence of the hallway, Fiearius expertly eased Leta backward a step so her shoulders were pressed against the doorframe to her room. Meanwhile, his mouth traveled from her lips, down her jawline, to her neck, gently nipping at delicate skin, sending shivers down her spine as her fingers dug into his hair. She felt his hand on her rear, pulling her hips against his and a low moan rose involuntarily from her throat.

As one of his hands moved down, the other moved up, under her shirt, his calloused palms gliding over her side and ribs. She leaned towards his ear and murmured, “Can you stay?”

His voice was muffled against her neck, his breath hot. “Do you want me to?”

It was hard to be annoyed when he was bombarding her with every pleasant sensation he had in his arsenal. Still, she glowered as she said, “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

“Ask me again,” he muttered and proceeded to use his hands to make it more and more difficult to think let alone speak.

But just barely, she managed to whisper between harsh breath and moans, “Stay with me.”

Fiearius didn’t answer with words. Instead, he withdrew his hands from where they were (Leta made a small groan of irritation), put one behind her legs, the other behind her shoulders and in one fell swoop, lifted her into his arms. Leta hurriedly threw her arms around his neck to hang on and laughed raucously as he carried her back into her room.

——————–

Hours later, Leta awoke dimly to the strange feeling of someone manipulating her fingers. At first, she recoiled, drawing her hand to her chest and trying to roll over to fall asleep again. She didn’t want to be awake. She hadn’t slept this well in months. She fully intended to enjoy it while it lasted.

But someone took her hand again and unwound her fingers. She didn’t fight this time and allowed them to place something in her palm then close her hand around it, tight. Exhausted as she was, Leta blinked open one eye and tried to focus on the blurry red shape sitting on the edge of her bed.

“What’re you…” she asked Fiearius, her voice fading away with her lack of consciousness.

“Shh,” he muttered, smoothing hair back on her forehead. “Go back to sleep.” Another blink and she realized he was no longer the Fiearius she had fallen asleep with. He wasn’t the careless, passionate, affectionate man who had kept her awake, writhing breathlessly and twisting against him for half the night. Now, he was dressed, armed with a gun at his leg, and there was a solemnity in his eyes as they stared down at her.

“I gotta go,” he whispered, leaning over the bed and kissing her on the temple.

“Why?” she asked,

“I’ve just gotta go,” was his only answer.

“Are you coming back?”

Fiearius smiled. “I hope so.”

Lest she argue further, he leaned in and kissed her lips, hard, but slow and sweet. She shifted towards him, ran her hand down his chest and arched her back against the mattress. But instead of deepening the kiss, he ended it, breaking away and regarding her with a sad smile.

“I love you,” he said. Leta cracked a tired grin.

“So you’ve said.”

“Just makin’ sure you don’t forget.”

“I won’t.”  but he had already drawn away and was moving across the room to leave.

There was one brief moment of panic that caused her to call out, “I’ll see you again soon,” before Fiearius disappeared out of the door and Leta’s mind, weak and spent, drifted back into sleep.

———————–

The next time she awoke, it was to someone knocking — no, pounding — on her door. First confused, then startled, Leta sat up in her bed, instinctively pulling the sheets around her bare chest. The three thuds sounded again and she looked around to regain her bearings. Fiearius was gone, her clothes were on the floor and — gods, who the hell was making such a racket at this time of morning?

Finally managing to pull on a shirt and pants, Leta stumbled towards the controls and the door slid open. Instantly, she was treated to a barrage of voices arguing in the hallway beyond, Corra’s chief among them.

“You can’t just barge onto my ship and assault my passengers,” she barked at Chief Strategist Arsen who turned his nose up at her.

“As long as you are docked to our dreadnought and, lest you’ve forgotten, siphoning our power supply, the Beacon is subject to any search and seizure deemed necessary to–”

Corra erupted a disgusted exclamation and continued to argue as Leta turned her attention to Admiral Gates, flanked by three other officers. He appeared oblivious to the bickering behind him.

“Good morning, Dr. Adler. May we come in?”

Leta had no doubt Corra would fight all five Carthians on her behalf to ensure she had a choice, but barring fistfights, there was only one possible answer. “Fine.” She stepped aside to allow them entrance. “What’s this about?”

Gates didn’t immediately answer, instead filing into the room and looking around. His silent escorts stuck close behind him. Arsen, apparently finished discussing these matters with the Beacon’s captain, joined him at his side.

Corra herself joined Leta’s. “I’m so sorry, I tried to stop them, but–”

“It’s okay,” Leta assured her and asked again, “What’s this about?”

This time, Gates cleared his throat. “Dr. Adler, do you know the current whereabouts of Admiral Soliveré?”

She hadn’t noticed the pit of discomfort in her stomach until it suddenly grew heavier. “No, I don’t. Why?”

One of the officers tapped something on his tablet. Gates didn’t answer her question and instead stated, “But he was here with you last night.”

Corra bristled. “That’s none of your damn business,” she growled, but Leta held out her hand to her. She wasn’t embarrassed. Though she was curious as to how they knew. Fiearius had often mentioned that Carthis had bugged him with a tracking device when he was recovering from an injury. She had assumed he’d been kidding.

“He was. But he’s not here now.” She gestured around the tiny room, empty aside from the intruders. “He left during the night.”

Gates nodded and the officer tapped another note onto the tablet. “And he made no mention of his destination?”

“None,” Leta answered calmly, staring him down with the same quiet threat he’d been giving her since he walked in the room. “But it’s not unlike Fiearius to disappear for a while. I’m not sure what about it warrants you barging in here and waking me up.”

Gates lifted a brow at her then nodded at Arsen. The strategist seemed a little more pleased than he should have to report, “We have reason to believe that Admiral Soliveré has committed or will very soon commit an act of high treason.”

Leta’s eyes grew wide as her body went very still. “What?”

“This footage was recorded in the C Deck fighter bay early this morning.” Arsen turned the tablet towards her and Leta peered at the screen to watch a tiny image of Fiearius walk across a docking bay, deliver the butt of a gun into a patrolling cadet’s head and board one of the ships. “He wounded three soldiers,” Arsen elaborated. “One is in critical condition.”

“Okay, so he stole a ship,” Leta clarified, regarding them skeptically. “He is a thief, and you did destroy his vessel. I don’t really see why this points to an act of high treason.”

“It’s not,” said Gates calmly. “But the ship is not the only issue and Soliveré is not the only one who has disappeared. Tell me, doctor, have you looked out the window lately?” Her room had no windows. She shook her head. “If you do, I think you’ll find the skies a lot less busy than they were last night.”

“His entire fleet is gone,” Arsen confirmed. Corra’s mouth fell open, a frown on her face that looked to be part shock and part offense. “We’ve lost tracking of Soliveré himself, but our monitoring was able to pick up the trajectory of a number of his flagships. We know where they’re headed.”

Leta’s eyes were glazed over and she was frowning lightly at the floor. She didn’t need Arsen to tell her. She already knew. “Satieri.”

—————-

Dorrion E’etan didn’t need to look up from his console to know that he was no longer alone in the quiet comfort of his home atop one of Paradiex’s sweeping residential towers. When he did glance from the screen to the window overlooking the twinkling city beneath a dark night sky, he could see the reflection of the figure standing in the doorway behind him.

“You finally made it,” E’etan said, still not turning around.

“Your security was pleasantly apathetic,” replied Fiearius Soliveré, stepping into the room.

E’etan shrugged. “I’ve never believed much in others dying to protect me. A person should be responsible for their own survival, don’t you think?”

“Can’t say I disagree.”

“So.” E’etan spun around in his chair finally and came to his feet to address his visitor. “It’s my turn then?” Soliveré cocked his head curiously. “You’ve killed all my colleagues. So it’s me now, yes?”

The man seemed to consider the notion for a moment. Then he ignored it. Fiearius strode forward and joined E’etan next to his console. He gazed out the window at the city and said, “Nice place you got here.”

“Thank you,” E’etan responded, masking his uncertainty by crossing his arms behind his back.

“Must not have been easy to get.”

“I was on a waitlist for three years.”

Fiearius made a noise of surprise and regarded him curiously. “Three years? Even you?”

E’etan snorted. “My job comes with less perks than you might imagine.”

Fiearius nodded slowly. “Good to know.”

E’etan narrowed his eyes on the man beside him. “And why is that?”
“Because,” Fiearius answered, casting him a sideways glance. “I’m not here to kill you. I’m here to help you.”

The liquor burned down his throat in a way Cyrus had never quite felt before. It was almost painful and he caught Addy grimacing through his own scrunched eyes as he tried to get it down. Across from them, Fiearius snorted a laugh. “So’ara wine,” he explained. “Rough, isn’t it?”

“Only a little,” Addy murmured, delicately placing her glass back on the table and trying not to look horrified when Fiearius tilted the bottle to refill it.

“The story behind it,” he went on, filling his own glass and plucking Cyrus’ from his hand,” is that to be proper so’ara wine, it has to make a journey to each of the eight Ridellian temples across the Span where they add their own ingredient to the fermentation. Something about covering the whole Span drawing the attention of the dov’ha to hear your request.” He shrugged. “Taste isn’t really a factor.”

“How did you get your hands on this?” Addy wanted to know.

Fiearius nearly smiled. “When I demanded it yesterday none of the Carthians were brave enough to argue. Found it on my doorstep this morning with a condolences card.”

“I guess that’s one nice thing they’ve done,” Cyrus muttered, unconsciously lifting the glass to his lips to take a sip until the smell reminded him and he drew it away.

“We’re not here to talk about Carthis,” Fiearius reminded him, his tone uncharacteristically stern.

“Right,” Addy put in, sounding much softer. “We’re here to mourn our friends.” The room fell quiet for a moment, none of them quite knowing what to say. Finally, Addy tried. “I wish I’d known them better, honestly.”

“You were really only on the Dionysian during the pregnancy though, you have an excuse,” Cyrus said. “I lived there for years and I still barely knew any of them.”

“Really?” Fiearius tilted his head curiously. “Rhys always liked you.”

“He liked me?” Cyrus balked. “I don’t think I ever had one conversation with the man. He didn’t even know my name.”

“He didn’t know anyone’s name,” Fiearius countered. “And what about Maya? She was really into you for a while.

That was news to Cyrus. “She was? When? How?”

“How?” Addy repeated, laughing.

Cyrus nudged her playfully and amended, “I mean — how do you know?”

“She told me.”

Cyrus’ eyes narrowed on his brother. “She told you. Are you sure she didn’t tell you just to make you jealous? Because I distinctly remember her wanting to get with you.”

“Pretty sure she only wanted that to piss off Corra though,” Fiearius muttered. “Well. Doesn’t matter. That nonsense was a long time ago. She became really reliable the past few years. Got us out of more than a few scrapes just by being sharp and paying attention. She really grew into the ship.” He looked up, reminiscing internally for a moment before snapping his fingers and pointing at Cyrus. “And on that note, c’mon, you didn’t know anybody? What about Richelle?”

At once, Cyrus broke into a grin. “Aw, Richelle, of course. That girl was a damn gifted mechanic.”

“Better ‘n you,” he heard Fiearius mumble, but by the time he managed to glare at him, his brother was innocently drinking from his glass and looking elsewhere.

“Regardless, I’m glad she stuck around so long.” Cyrus eyed Fiearius again. “Glad you didn’t kick her off after all that Paraven stuff.”

Fiearius shot him a frown and opened his mouth, but Addy cut him off. “What Paraven stuff?” Immediately, his eyes went wide and he set a pleading stare on Cyrus who laughed.

“You never heard the story of how Richelle came to be on the Dionysian?” She shook her head and Cyrus provided his brother a grin full of malice. “Oh it’s a great story.”

“Please don’t,” Fiearius begged.

Which only made Addy more excited. “I wanna hear it!”

“That was not my proudest moment…”

“I need to hear it,” Addy insisted.

“Cy, come on.”

“Tell me Cy-Cy.”

“Please.”

“Who would you rather make angry, me or him?”

“That’s unfair, you can’t play wife card.”

“Watch me.”

Cyrus held back his laughter as the two of them bickered, but in the end, a vigil probably was not the time or place. Besides, Fiearius just looked so desperate. “Alright alright, I won’t,” he relented and Addy immediately crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

“Thank you,” Fiearius sighed as Cyrus leaned over to the woman at his side and whispered, “I’ll tell you later.” It seemed to appease her.

“So,” she spoke up, and Fiearius watched her suspiciously, perhaps expecting her to keep going, but she changed the subject. “Now that the Dionysian’s gone–what happens after all this?”

The lightness in the room seemed to evaporate entirely. Cyrus nervously sipped his wine, braving the awfulness to mask the discomfort. But to his surprise, Fiearius didn’t seem as sensitive to the subject as he was.

“Depends how things play out I guess,” he admitted, spreading his hands helplessly. “Hard to say at this point.”

“Right.” She nodded in understanding and shifted again, her fingers lacing together in her lap. So Cyrus wasn’t the only one who found this uncomfortable after all. “Well. I just want you to know that we’re with you all the way. And whatever happens, we’ll have your back.”

Fiearius leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees and fixed her with an amused smirk. “You don’t say.”

Addy turned pink. And then she frowned at him dully. “Okay, you wanna be like that? Fine. I was just trying to be supportive because you never ask for help, but you’ve been through a lot and you’re family so you can and you should, but fine. Be dismissive. I don’t care,” she said in a waspy tone that clearly meant that she cared quite a bit.

Fiearius’ smirk morphed into a grin and he glanced at Cyrus. “This one? You keep her, ya hear me?”

“Oh I intend to.” Cyrus smiled as he took one of Addy’s hands in his. She shot him a glare and mumbled something about not being property to be kept, but she didn’t pull her hand away.

————————-

The knock on the door made Leta jump. It was authoritative and business-like, which was surprising: the hallways had been ghostly silent all day, quieted by grief.

“Hang on a sec, Nikki,” she said into the COMM speaker. “Someone’s at the door.”

“It’s okay,” said Nikkolai quickly. He was in his apartment on Vescent, and though the COMM connection was clear, he sounded very far away. “I’ll let you go.”

“No, I can tell them to wait. I called you, I’m talking to you.”

“Ley, it’s fine, really.” His voice was thick with the tears he’d been shedding just minutes ago. “I need some rest anyway. Go.”

“Are you sure? I can stay if you’d like to talk more.”

“I’ve talked enough for now.”

Her heart twisted in her chest. “Well — I’ll call again soon, alright?”

“Absolutely. I’ll tell the rest of the clinic you said hi.”

Leta very nearly returned her usual response, that she’d say hi to the Dionysian for him. The words stuck in her throat as she blurted out instead, “Right. Thanks. Take care of yourself, Nikki.”

“You too, Ley.”

The connection went dead, and worry rippled through her like an acid wave. No one was taking the recent loss well, but Nikkolai had lost the most dear person he had without getting to say goodbye, all because he was on Vescent running Leta’s clinic in her absence. Logically, she knew she was not responsible for Javier’s death or Nikkolai’s sorrows, but logic didn’t stop her from feeling guilty.

The COMM disconnected and Leta stood to answer the door. When she slid it open, there was no one on the other side, but Fiearius was down the hallway, looking back over his shoulder at her.

“Oh. I thought you were asleep.” When she blinked in confusion, he added, “It’s pretty late…”

“Is it?” She hadn’t even noticed. “I haven’t really been in the mood to sleep.”

Fiearius turned around to face her, a tired smirk on his face. He looked as exhausted as she felt and, she guessed, just as sleepless. Which was only part of the explanation for why he was at her door in the middle of the night.

“Did you need something?”

The question somehow caught him off guard. He opened his mouth, then shut it again, tucked his fingers into his hair, and frowned at the wall next to him as though asking it what it thought. Leta wasn’t sure if the wall helped at all, but eventually he decided on an answer. “Yeah.” He eased a few steps closer. “Can we talk for a minute?”

“Only a minute,” Leta teased, then she moved out of the doorway. “Of course, come in.”

Fiearius lifted his brows as he walked past her into her quarters. “Bad jokes, huh? You really haven’t been sleeping.”

“Told you.”

She closed the door, watching as Fiearius surveyed her room: he made a small circle, looking around at the silver walls like he’d never seen anything so interesting. It didn’t seem to matter that she’d only lived there for two nights and had lost most of her possessions on the Dionysian anyway. A narrow bed, neatly made. A stack of clothes she’d borrowed from Corra sat on a chair. A tablet provided by Carthis was on the table. Nothing else gave any indication that anybody lived there at all.

When he still didn’t speak up after his circle was complete, Leta decided to step in. “About earlier–“

“I don’t want to talk about that,” he interrupted immediately, finally turning to face her.

Leta paused, surprised. “Alright. Then what do you want to talk about?”

Fiearius looked her up and down for a moment as if sussing her out for something. Then he frowned at the wall again. And, most importantly, didn’t answer.

“Fiear–”

“Hang on, I’m thinking.”

“You do that.” She sighed, half-weary, half-entertained. “I’m getting a drink.”

Okay, so there were three things in the room. Corra had been nice enough to store a small collection of Leta’s favorite liquor in one of the cabinets. As she reached for a bottle of whiskey, she called back, “No ice, right?”

“No drink. I’m fine.”

No you’re not, she almost said. The Fiearius she knew didn’t turn down drinks. Or have silent conversations with walls. She finished pouring her glass and returned to the center of the room, taking a sip. He still wasn’t looking at her and he didn’t seem any closer to a solution to whatever problem was floating in his head.

“Can I know what you’re thinking about at least?”

“Words,” he answered without skipping a beat. “I’m not good at them.”

“You can be.” It was meant to be encouraging,it sounded more like a slight. “But you are more of an actions kind of guy,” she added, quieter.

“Exactly,” Fiearius agreed with a small groan. “But I need words for this.” He ran a hand through his hair.

“Is this about–“

“No,” he said before she could even finish.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I do, and it’s not that,” Fiearius insisted, shaking his head. He made another circle, but this time, once it was finished, he seemed to have arrived at something. “Okay. Alright. I’m just gonna make this quick and painless.”

Leta wasn’t sure if she should have been amused or alarmed. “That sounds ideal.”

“This is terrible timing, I want you to know that I know that,” were the first words he managed to choose as he turned back to face her. “Finn said there’s no such thing as bad taste right now, but I think he’s wrong and this is incredibly bad taste. I know that. Know that I know that.”

Leta studied his face curiously. “Noted.”

“It’s just. With everything happening, y’know. In case.” He frowned, perhaps realizing he wasn’t making sense, took a dramatic step towards her and declared, “This is stupid. I don’t need anything from you, and, gods–” He barked a laugh– “You already know. I know you know. But I–” He fixed his eyes on hers and the sort of nervous manicness melted away. It was replaced by something far more earnest and Leta swore she saw a hint of — of all things — pleading.

“I just need you to hear it from me.” He took a deep breath and kicked the bomb straight out the side of the ship. “I love you.”

Silence fell over over the room. Slowly, achingly slowly, Leta lowered the glass from her lips. Shock descended through her and she was suddenly very conscious of her hands, of her feet, her skin, and though a thousand thoughts barrelled through her head like a speeding freight train, her mouth felt like it wasn’t interested in ever moving again.

Fiearius, staring at her face, started rambling. “You don’t have to say anything or do anything, really. I didn’t — don’t — expect anything. This is honestly just me being selfish because I can’t stop thinking about what’s gonna happen if–” He seemed to rethink the statement and shook it off. “So I had to tell you. I’m sorry. But–I just never got over you. I tried. I fucking tried, but it was you. All along, it was always you and I fucked it up really badly and I know that, but it’s you and I can’t pretend anymore that it’s not.”

He was talking so fast he almost ran out of breath. He took a moment to recuperate before lifting his hands in defeat. “So there it is. That’s it. I love you.” He stayed like that for a moment, paralyzed by what he’d admitted. Then he squinted at her. “Why do you look so surprised?”

On some level, Leta did not feel surprised. She’d — sort of known. Part of her knew. Fiearius had never gone through great lengths to hide his attraction to her. He’d admitted his jealousy of Liam, he fought for her attention in any room they were in, he seemed to trust her and go to her for counsel more than anyone else. She knew that he liked her. There was an attraction, a spark — she’d felt it, too. But she didn’t know that he loved her. And she sure as hell didn’t expect him to say it.

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

Fiearius didn’t seem to have anticipated the question. “Why didn’t I–what?” he stammered.

“Tell me earlier,” she said again. “Of all the times to choose to speak up, you choose now?”

He gaped at her for a moment, then clamped his eyes shut and massaged his fingers into his temple. “Bad taste. See? I knew he was wrong.”

“It’s not just bad taste, it’s–” Leta shook her head. “What do you expect me to do with this information? Now?” She gestured her hands to the room at large.

“Nothing,” he assured her. “Absolutely nothing. Like I said, this is purely selfish.”