Almost as good as she looked lounging in our nest in the arcade, hair mussed, protein gel pack in hand, shooting me the one-dimpled smile I love so much—the one that’s real.
I can’t trust her not to give me the slip if she spots me, and there’s no way I’m letting her go up there alone, not when I can help her. Even if she’s got some plan to locate the rift and disable it without me, she’ll be safer if I’m there to help. And whatever’s passed between us, LaRoux’s attempt to take over the government is bigger than us—we can’t afford to fail tonight.
My nerves never bug me when I’m on a job, but this one is different, and my heart’s slamming in my chest as I make my way toward her. She could call me out, she could name me in front of everyone. She could accuse me of stalking or harassment and sic the security guards on me. She could turn her back on me and walk into danger on her own.
I keep behind her, out of her line of sight, until the last possible moment. When security starts scanning the invite of the couple just in front of her, I ease forward and slip an arm around her waist so we’re unmistakably a couple. She goes perfectly still, then carefully turns her head to check who’s just taken that kind of liberty. Her features barely flicker, but I see the fear flash in her eyes. The next minute she’s controlled it, and her hand’s coming to rest on mine where it sits at her waist. “I thought you weren’t coming,” she says, as light and friendly as if her fingernails weren’t digging into the tendon at my wrist, sending a bolt of pain up my arm, robbing me of words.
The attendant by the airlock bows politely and holds out his hand for Sofia’s invitation. “Jack Rosso and Bianca Reine,” she says sweetly, and he ushers us in. Her source was good, and the invitation holds up to his inspection. I’m weak with relief.
The shuttle itself is something else. I haven’t seen riches like this in years. It’s all soft lighting, plush red carpets, and overstuffed armchairs, rather than standard shuttle seats. Even the safety restraints are fancy, upholstered with velvet and embroidered to match the curtains at the viewports. It’s a slice of Victorian decadence, care of LaRoux Industries—the fashion outside might have moved on with a new season, but tonight we’ve been teleported back in time into the world of the Icarus. Sofia picks a pair of armchairs toward the back, still refusing to meet my eyes, and as we buckle in, a young man in sleek butler’s attire makes his way down the aisle with a silver tray full of gently bubbling champagne glasses. I relieve him of two—to hell with not drinking, I’m not sure I’ll make it through this without help—then down one in a couple of gulps. Sofia declines the one I try to hand her with a shake of her head.
“Listen,” I murmur, trying not to grip the remaining glass too tightly. Willing her to really hear me. I’ve rehearsed the words in my head—I know there’s no point in appealing to whatever she might have felt for me. I need to appeal to the steely determination that lives inside her, the part of her that’s kept her going over the past year. “You still need something. So do I. Get me up there and I’ll keep my promise. And after that, if you tell me to, I’ll never come near you again.”
She gazes out the viewport in silence, watching the distant crowd swirling back as the last of the gala guests board and there’s nothing left to gawk at. It’s not until the doors close and the light hum of the engines rises to a muted roar that she replies. “I said I’d kill you if you came looking for me again.”
I swallow, watching her profile. “I know.”
“But here you are.”
“We have to stop LaRoux.” And even if I can only admit it to myself, maybe keeping her safe is more important than all of it. I owe her that. And I want it for her, too.
The shuttle gives a gentle shudder and lifts off, gathering speed quickly. It’s almost completely smooth, but Sofia drops her purse into her lap to grab at the armrests, leaning her head back against the headrest so she can squeeze her eyes closed. When she speaks again, her words are short and sharp. “When we get back to Corinth, you’ll walk away from me and never look back. You won’t look for me. You won’t so much as enter my name into one of your search programs.”
It’s like having my insides squeezed, but I force myself to nod. Then, remembering she can’t see it with her eyes closed: “I understand. And until we’re back on Corinth?”
“Let’s just do what we came to do. If I let you wander around up there without me, you’ll blow your cover, and then they’ll find out who you came with.”
I don’t care if it’s grudging. It’s enough. I want to help her. I want to keep her safe. I want to make up for everything I’ve put her through over the past year—and I want LaRoux to answer for what he’s done. I hope I don’t have to choose between these things.
She’s still gripping the armchair like the shuttle might fall out of the sky if she doesn’t personally focus on keeping it up in the air, and I realize in a flash that she’s a nervous flier. I suppose on Avon she didn’t spend a lot of time on shuttlecraft. I reach for a question to distract her, keeping my voice low. “Tell me about the schedule for tonight. Do we know where our window is?” We were meant to spend today on this final briefing. We were meant to be together, today.
She breathes out slowly, steadying herself, staring straight ahead as she murmurs her reply. If she knows I’m asking to keep her mind off the flight, she doesn’t let on. “Security’s heavy. LaRoux will be there himself, along with his daughter and that soldier she’s marrying.”
My poor, abused heart starts thumping again. It’s fine. Lilac and Merendsen might know the Knave, but they never saw what he looked like. And while Lilac might recognize me, it’s been so long that I doubt she’d even remember me. “The whole family?” I try to keep my voice light. “All in one place, that’s a big deal. I didn’t think the soldier came out in public.”
Sofia rolls her eyes. “He’s not the hero all the newsvids made him out to be,” she murmurs. “Some of those medals on his chest are for so-called victories against Avon, against my people. He came back there, right before the Broadcast, after…my father. And he ran for it as soon as things got bad.”
There’s a bitter taste in my mouth. After all, he left right after he relayed the information I found for them to Jubilee Chase and Flynn Cormac. Of course Sofia would see that as abandonment. “I guess the media get all kinds of things wrong,” I say, to fill the silence. “What about security? There’ll be a big crew there, I’m guessing.”
“It’ll be a different team to the ones we—” Sofia pauses only a beat. I guess having her home invaded by kidnappers is no longer the worst thing that’s happened to her in the past two weeks. “Met. We should be safe, unless someone walks in on you running a hack on their computers.”
I pat my pocket, where I’ve stashed the most slimmed-down version of my equipment I could manage. “With any luck it won’t be more than a few minutes, once we find the rift.” Maybe I should pretend it’s taking longer—give me some excuse to talk and plead my case.
The shuttle clears atmo and the ride smooths out, the roar of the engines dropping, Sofia’s death grip on the armchair easing. Through the viewport beside her, the stars emerge from the sooty pollution shrouding Corinth. “There’ll be hors d’oeuvres to start the night,” she says softly, all business. “Mingling, dancing. Then later on, the museum section opens. The problem is that they’re offering private tours of the exhibit during the first half of the party, and our route to Engineering takes us right through the exhibit, so our window is small. We have to get in after the tours end, but before the museum opens—during the speeches. We’ll have a window of half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes.”