Honor Among Thieves (The Honors #1)(30)

I left her and went back to watch our progress. I was still fascinated with the view. It didn’t seem possible that he could travel so fast, but in the time it had taken me to get her settled, I could already see Mars as a small orange orb, growing as we raced closer. He slowed as the red planet deepened before us, and without meaning to, I pressed my palms to the port-skin.

Mom and Kiz are probably there by now. Maybe just getting off their own shuttle. Thinking about me. Sometimes I’d wondered how it must feel, just seeing a milky dome above them when they looked up, no stars or sky. The whole universe lay before me, and part of me wished I could share this breathtaking vision with them.

It occurred to me that I missed them. Really missed them. I’d been holding that back a long time, pretending that I didn’t need them, didn’t need anybody. But up here, it was safe to admit I still loved them.

“This made you sad,” Nadim said. “I didn’t expect that. I’m sorry. Why do you feel that way?”

My head jerked up. Right, I’m not alone here. But . . . “How do you know?”

“I can . . . see is not the right word. Neither is feel. It’s somewhere in between?”

I tried to imagine what the bacteria in my system might be feeling and failed utterly. In orientation, they’d warned us off of feeling his emotions; I wasn’t sure they’d ever even mentioned him picking up on ours. I wasn’t sure how I felt about this development. Cautiously I ran my hand down the wall, and a jolt of . . . something tingled through my fingers. I quickly pulled back. “What was that?”

After a pause, Nadim said, “I’m not sure,” and he sounded surprised too.

I tried it again. Same tingle. It wasn’t like I’d got an electric shock; rather, it felt sort of good, like positive feedback. It faded. When I tried again, nothing.

“Do you want to stay here awhile?” he asked me. “It is a lovely planet. I can remain in orbit if you wish.”

“I guess,” I said. “What’s all this like for you? Is it strange, having us with you?”

A pause. “Nobody’s asked that before,” he said.

“Really? Out of how many . . . uh, Honors?”

“I’ve partnered with twenty different sets,” he said.

“So forty people, and nobody’s ever asked how you feel about it until now?”

“No.”

That struck me as weirdly human-centric. Hadn’t they thought of him as . . . real? Having his own feelings and life? Not even Marko? Way to be ambassadors, people.

“You shouldn’t feel sorry for me,” Nadim said. “I’m very used to human behavior.”

He’d read me, again. Effortlessly. I was used to being a closed book, and now I felt . . . open. That worried me and brought up the old fears. I didn’t like being vulnerable. “Okay, now, hang on,” I said. “How are you reading my mind?”

“I’m not,” he said, and sounded startled about it. “I wouldn’t. But you . . . you feel like colors, and the colors are made of emotions. You were purple, but you’re brightening to red now. And that feels . . . warm. Like the taste of a star.”

“I . . . what?” My stomach lurched in the most unexpected way, not seasick, but that pleasurable shiver rolled over me in waves again. People didn’t just say things like that, certainly not about me. “Okay. Sure.”

“Did I explain it badly?” He seemed concerned.

“No, it’s fine. Just—it’s pretty personal. They told us back on Earth we might feel stuff on board, but—”

“You already do, don’t you? Don’t I have texture?”

Belatedly I realized I was still resting my hand against the wall. I wondered if all new Honors felt this strange when they first came aboard. I wondered if that was what had so badly damaged Valenzuela, not slamming this door and locking it up. I stepped back and fixed my eyes on Mars again. “That’s not what I’m talking about. There’s feeling with my fingertips and . . . feeling with feelings.” That sounded complicated, but I couldn’t phrase it better. “Look, are you sure you can’t read my mind?”

“Not read it, no. I’ve never had that deep a relationship with any of my Honors. I can see moods, but it’s rare that I connect any more deeply. Of course, I’m still learning.”

“You’re in training too?”

“Yes. But I’m near the end. Soon, I’ll be ready for the Journey.”

“Yeah, I got some questions about that—”

“Perhaps later. Beatriz isn’t feeling well. You should probably check on her. It might help if she had something to eat.” I had the unmistakable sense he was trying to ditch my question. Nice try, but I didn’t get distracted that easy.

“Yeah, well, I’m not the chef on this cruise. She’ll have to get it herself.” I meant it, but then I reconsidered enough to ask, “Is she sick? For real?”

His lovely voice radiated regret. “Just disoriented. This happens sometimes. I hope she can adjust to me. Not everyone can.” He sounded . . . a little wounded.

Until this moment it never occurred to me that we could hurt the feelings of a ship, even if it was intelligent. This was all so new. So odd. And once again, I remembered Valenzuela. Maybe he couldn’t deal with all this . . . sharing. Felt weird to me too.