Honor Among Thieves (The Honors #1)(21)

I turned toward him so suddenly he pulled back. “Keep my mother’s name out of your mouth. If I have to smile and shake your hand, I will. But there’s nothing else, right? I will never forgive you.”

That was as blunt as I could make it. I didn’t miss a flare of anger in him, the way his fist curled, like he wanted to smack the defiance out of me. Some things didn’t change.

Marko glanced between us and then murmured something into the mini-H2 on his wrist. “I think it would be better for you to make your own way to the hotel, Mr. Cole. I’ll send a separate vehicle for you.”

A surge of gratitude almost made me smile. “Let’s get out of here.”

The e-car was posh inside, and I liked it even more when we left my old man standing on the curb. The giant holos shimmering on the buildings flashed my picture up again, noting my arrival. Asking the question I was curious about right now: Why her? Apparently, experts were weighing in. I was glad I didn’t have to listen to them break me down into tasty pieces for public consumption.

We reached a flash hotel, a tower of gold with obsidian accents that was famous for hosting the Honors when New York won the bid, along with more drone cams and reporters eager for a glimpse of our party. Marko skated us past, an old pro at dodging unwanted attention.

At that point I had to say, unwillingly, “Thanks.”

Marko nodded. “I understand. It’s overwhelming.”

As we reached the front doors, my old man climbed out of his e-car and waved to the crowd. I quickened my step to avoid sharing the impromptu spotlight with him.

“I’m sorry,” Marko said. “But it’s common for family members to participate, even estranged ones. This makes for a better media event. The Honors program promotes global unity, and they like the idea of facilitating reconciliation. No borders, no limits . . . remember that slogan?”

“It’s fine,” I told him. “I can take care of myself.”

He nodded. “You’ll need to answer some questions inside. He’ll expect to stand with you.”

“I don’t want him talking.”

“Then I’ll make sure he doesn’t,” Marko said.

He seemed to be acting as a protector. Marko wasn’t my brother or my friend, though. I barely knew him, except the story from the holos. But if he could keep my dad’s mouth shut, I’d take that as a gift.

Sure enough, inside in the lobby, there was a crush of reporters sporting grafted-in cameras and enough drones whirring overhead to create a breeze. The hotel’s atrium was an extravagant place, with vast holo walls that currently displayed . . . space. It felt like floating, with the nano-tinted carpet shimmering black with little points and sparks of light appearing and burning at random.

The vast shape of a Leviathan swam slowly around the walls of the room. Its skin glimmered like burnished metal where light touched it. Like a fish in a bowl, I thought.

Took me a minute to realize that Marko was clearing a path for us.

So many reporters shouting for my attention. I didn’t hear the voices I wanted most, so I scanned the crowd until I spotted my mom and sister. Amid the media frenzy, Kiz nearly flattened me with a hug.

I jumped excitedly with her and then stepped back to really look at her. Almost as tall as me, now. A shower of thick, springy curls all the way down to her shoulders. Vivid light-brown eyes and the dark-ochre skin tone we shared. Kiz was wearing an orange shirt and loose flower-patterned skirt, and—

“You’re grown,” I said.

I hugged her; she grabbed me back, bouncing. She couldn’t restrain a squeak of excitement, though I wasn’t sure if it was the reunion or all the press coverage. Hard to believe this polished young woman was the same kid who’d cried when I wouldn’t let her tag after me.

“Missed you,” Kiz whispered.

“Me too.”

Mom stepped up then, smoothing down her dress like it might fly away, and I saw tears gleaming in her eyes. I got my height from her, and my shoulders. Kiz and I both inherited her lovely hair, though my mother kept hers in tight, natural curls close to her scalp. She opened her arms, and I forgot about press junkets and clamoring reporters. I’d never been the daughter she wanted and she hadn’t always been the mother I needed, but there was no question that I loved her and Kiz. Or that she loved me.

I just didn’t know how to live with them. My father had carved a hole in all three of us, and we’d each filled that space as best we could.

“I’m so proud of you,” Mom said. My dad had claimed that too. But Mom meant it.

I smiled. “It’s good to see you both. Was the trip okay?”

Kiz grabbed my hand. “Z, it was amazing, you could see the Leviathan all up in orbit. . . . We don’t see stars through the dome, but there are so many, it’s just so beautiful!”

I gave her a grin that felt real. “Guess I’ll see for myself pretty soon,” I said.

“Oh, good, you’re here!” A professionally attractive woman joined us, wearing an ice-white suit and high heels. Everything about her screamed money. “I’m Gidra Valdez, your press liaison.”

She gave some introduction I only half listened to because I was worried that my dad was about to step forward and start running his mouth. I made sure Mom and Kiz stood on either side of me—with my old man forced to the back row with Marko and Ms. Valdez.