Honor Among Thieves (The Honors #1)(59)

“You’re upset,” Nadim observed.

He hadn’t spoken to us in Beatriz’s room, which made me think she hadn’t invited him in, and therefore, he hadn’t been listening to what we said. I’d counted on that. He did follow into my quarters, however; I felt him in a warming swirl, prickling over my skin. Normally I would have found that relaxing, comforting, more than a little thrilling.

Not just now. “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “I’m all right.”

“You told Beatriz about Firstworld.”

“So you did eavesdrop on us!”

“No. But it’s obvious you would want to involve her in trying to find out more, and I think from your mood that she rejected your offer.”

“Damn. Why are you so perceptive? But she’s happier just doing her job.”

“You aren’t.”

“What?”

“Happy.”

“Eh, I can be happy in some ways but not in others. I’m complicated like that.”

He seemed to consider that for a moment, and then said, almost hesitantly, “Would you let me share something else with you?”

“Always.” The response popped out before I could stop it.

“You should make yourself comfortable first.”

A little shivering breath gusted out, but I curled up on my bed. Hell, I even closed my eyes. Before Nadim, I never took instructions, but these days, it was hard for me to imagine him asking me to do anything that would hurt me.

“Okay, I’m good.”

“I don’t know what you did that day at the pool, but do it again. If you can. Or this might not work.” He hesitated. “Call this . . . an apology. I want you to see what I see.”

I didn’t even ask what he intended to do. Before, I’d closed the door on him; this time, I threw it wide, and it was like having my mind drawn into a breathlessly fast whirlpool. Silent currents carried me straight to him, and as we had before, we clicked in, two missing pieces, and then there was no I, as everything of him became me. The new thing, the sweetness of we, moved with growing confidence. My mind opened like a flower so we could feel the cool, distant starlight streaming in an incandescent glow. Everything expanded. I was enormous and minuscule at the same time. Joined.

Bonded.

A flutter of fingertips, and we leapt forward. But it wasn’t enough. There were no words anymore, just the endless loop of emotion—joy, excitement, euphoria—and it echoed until we couldn’t contain it. Notes that I (the smaller I) only sensed before they burst into starsong, humming along our hull-skin, glittershot, thrumming, hopeful, all cadences in light and sound, simultaneous and eternal and exquisite. Roaring repeat, call and icy chorus of distant stars—

Pop.

I tumbled into my skin, and I felt like I was choking, trapped in a small dark place, alone. I felt myself flailing and couldn’t control it, and then I was sickly falling off the bed. Laying on the floor, I panted, hard. My head hurt like it hadn’t since I was a little kid. “N-Nadim . . . ?”

“I’m here, Zara.” He spoke warmly, quickly, and I heard the deep concern. “You’re showing elevated heart rate and respiratory distress.” Such a scattershot voice, pinging me with the pink of his panic. “Do you require medical intervention?”

“No. Just . . . give me a minute. That was hardcore.”

“Hard . . . core?”

“Being you. I heard the stars. Tasted them. Or . . .” I had no words.

“And I felt your heart beating, your blood rushing, the flicker of your nerves and skin. It was . . .” Apparently, this was new territory for Nadim too. “That was my fault. I only meant to show you a little of what I see. Not everything. Not yet. I didn’t mean—”

“To do what?” Put that way, he made it sound like we were doing something forbidden, and for me, that was like a catnip mouse on a string.

“Deep bond.”

Why did that sound so alluring? Despite my exhaustion, I immediately wanted to do it again. I ached to feel that freedom, to explode out of my tiny, fragile skin into the exultation of starsong. “That was amazing. Would we get in trouble if anyone found out?”

“Yes. It isn’t meant to be done on the Tour. I think it happens on the Journey.”

“Then it has to be our secret.” Right then I made up my mind, I wouldn’t even tell Bea. From general conversation, I’d gleaned that her impressions from Nadim were superficial at best, only glimmers of what I felt. She was more hesitant about connecting with him and she didn’t have a boost of Leviathan DNA, either.

“I just . . . I wanted to make it up to you.” He didn’t even need to explain what he meant. I could tell that Nadim didn’t like holding out on me. It chafed like a sliver of glass beneath his skin. I twisted onto my back and flattened my palms on the floor, then bent my knees so I could use the soles of my feet too. Not only did it ground me after that wild ride, it also offered four points of contact. It occurred to me I might prefer sleeping on the floor in contact with him to sleeping on the bed, as it carried the same emotional resonance as snuggling in somebody’s arms.

Where we touched, warmth blossomed. With my eyes closed, I could feel what he felt, the energy flow back and forth as we adjusted as separate things once more, falling away from the we. Before I realized it, he had me tracing patterns with my hands and feet, following the subtle trail of pulses. The sleek, hot delight of it spiraled in secret art that only we could see, only we could create. Nadim’s peace washed over me as if I’d survived a shipwreck.