Empress of a Thousand Skies(40)

Literally.

“Oxygen levels have already improved by twelve percent,” Pavel announced. “The specimen is a shangdi variety indigenous to the western hemisphere of Fontis. Very unusual, known to bloom during the monsoon season.”

“Oh yeah?” Aly said distractedly. Pavel was particularly chipper; he’d stayed back and updated all his software. But Aly wasn’t in the mood for chipper.

He eyed the hammer on Vin’s hip for a second, then leaned forward in his chair. He watched Vin plot the coordinates—they’d been hopscotching their way toward the outer planet of Portiis. If they flew in a straight line it would take three days, tops—but it was hard to tell which routes were being patrolled at any given time. It was safer to stay in random orbits. Fly around, blend with the intergalactic traffic, get lost in the shuffle, which would add another ten days at least.

The Tin Soldier had been modified from the inside out, practically gutted so that it barely looked like the pod Alyosha knew. That was the point—to be unrecognizable. And Aly had made a few adjustments of his own, in secret. He typed in a ten-digit code on his side of the console. “So you gonna apologize?” Aly asked finally as their pod slowed to a halt.

“For what?” Vin wouldn’t look at him. “What the hell did you just do?” He jabbed the keys of the console. Still, they hung motionless, suspended in space.

“For getting us into that mess back there.” He leaned back again, enjoying himself. For once, he was in the right.

“You got us into this mess,” Vin countered evenly.

“How do you figure? You knocked my mask off.”

Vin still wouldn’t look at him as he tried punching in code after code to unfreeze the console. “Fine, Aly. Everything is my fault. You’re always right.” He slammed the dash with a fist: “Now unlock the nav system!”

“Say it like you mean it.”

Vincent suddenly unclipped and lunged—but Aly blocked him with his free hand and held him at arm’s length. Vin’s legs started to lift up in the air, and he floated nearly upside down. “Unlock it,” he said. “We don’t have time for your bullshit.”

“Look who’s talking.” Aly unstrapped, and they both floated up toward the ceiling—but he levered off the walls, kicking away from Vin. It had started as a joke, kind of, but he could feel his anger bubbling up from all the hidden places. “My face is plastered on every telepod across the entire known universe. I’ve been framed for murder, and all you’ve done is give me taejis.”

“Stop playing the victim.” Vin’s blue eyes were as big and intense as ever. “This is war, Aly. Massive-scale, insane, galactic war. So maybe instead of sucking your thumb and feeling sorry for yourself, you should stop and ask yourself: Why?”

“Gentlemen, please.” Pavel stretched out two claw attachments and tugged at their pant sleeves, trying to wrestle them back into their seats. They both kicked out of his grip, and Pavel gave off an engine whirl that sounded like a sigh.

“Why did they frame you?” Vin’s voice had dropped. “I’m the spy. I’m the one who sent out the hail.”

Something thick and sticky was working its way through Aly’s brain. The silence stretched out around them as if it, too, were free of gravity, and diffusing through the ship.

“Because I’m Wraetan,” he said finally. It would always come back to his nation, his second-citizen status. He remembered what Vin had said earlier. If you weren’t always trying to get people to like you . . . Was that true? Probably. He was mostly just trying to get people to like Wraetans. To show everyone that Wraetans were more than the rabid guerrilla fighters they’d seen on the holos during the Great War. But he was trying to show the Wraetans, too, what they could be, what he wanted them to be. “It was easy for the public to swallow. They want to get back at us for allying with Fontis . . .”

“Yeah, all of that.” Vin looked at him. “You were convenient. You were the perfect spur-of-the-moment scapegoat to stoke the flames of war. But you were a diversion. The question is: What were they trying to hide?” The fire had seemed to drain out of him. He gripped his way to the dash and looked out into the darkness. “They needed to distract the public from rumors that the Princess is still alive.”

“You know?” Aly asked. He hadn’t told him about the braid he found in the escape pod.

“We suspected as much.” He leaned back like he was trying to get a better look at Aly, trying to take him all in. “How long have you known?”

“Since I found the dead Nau Fruman in the royal escape pod . . .”

“Wait.” Vin stared at him. “What escape pod?”

Aly told him, finally, about catching up to the royal escape pod, and the dead man with a braid coiled on his chest.

Vin just stared. “You’re talking about Princess Rhiannon?”

“No, the other assassinated princess,” Aly said, but when he saw Vin’s face, he knew to drop the sarcasm.

“Holy taejis. Do you know what this means?” Vin asked. “You knew this whole time, and you didn’t say anything?”

“Don’t try to lecture me about keeping secrets,” Aly said. Vin made a face. “And anyway, who the hell are you talking about?”