Honor Among Thieves (The Honors #1)(76)

“Everything,” I whispered. I felt something wet on my cheeks, and I swiped at it in disbelief. Not sweat. Tears.

He said my name again, this time pleadingly.

But when I closed the door, he stayed outside. I don’t cry, I told myself. My father had tried to crack me. I’d learned to turn off tears long ago.

But the need to cry this time was overwhelming. No. No, I won’t. And I didn’t. Exhaustion finally closed in.

Just as I was about to doze off, my bunk rocked hard enough to tip me onto the floor, and Nadim’s agony split my skull into a thousand pieces, so all I could do was writhe and scream. Since I’d promised not to leave him alone in his pain again, I did not pass out.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


Breaking Hearts


I MADE IT to the data console without succumbing. It was like he’d been hit with a shock baton. I knew that feeling. I’d been stunned plenty of times back home—rehab, the Bible camp, even in the Zone a couple of times when the enforcement troops had come in to clean up the place.

It had been a hit designed to keep him in line and unable to fight back. The quarrel we’d just had paled in comparison to this new situation. Mentally I called for a truce.

“Nadim! I need to see!” I shouted.

Hopefully he’d get the need to cooperate too. The wall opposite the data console shimmered into transparency.

Typhon filled our sky, massive as a living moon, pitted with dark scars and thick with armor. There was grace in other Leviathan, and beauty—like luminous fish in dark water. But not him. He looked graceless and brutal, and most of all, he looked three times Nadim’s size. I’d never felt as scared of him as I did in that moment. That was partly because he was just that badass, but also because I could feel the raw fear vibrating inside Nadim like a drum. This had taken him completely by surprise. He wasn’t good at hiding the feeling, and somehow, I knew Typhon would be able to sense it.

Bullies always could.

I hit the comm. “Bea! Get up here now!”

I heard a confused flailing on the other end, and the clear sound of her feet slapping the floor. The first part of her question came out in Portuguese before her brain caught up, and then she translated, “What? What is it?” She wasn’t waiting for an answer. I could hear her pulling on her uniform.

“Trouble,” I said, and switched off. Explaining would only make her more anxious and solve nothing. Besides, I had things to do. Nadim’s pain was passing, and I sensed his defenses coming up. “Nadim! Why is he here? I thought the Elders went out on their Journey and we never saw them again!”

“Almost never. But he didn’t go.” There was a strain in his voice, as if it was hard to think past the suffering and stress.

“What do you mean, didn’t go? He left, we saw him go!”

“He didn’t sing.”

Ah. Of course. I remembered that; the other Leviathan had sung their beautiful, mournful good-bye when they’d darted out of sight, gone on their Journey to distant stars. Only Typhon had remained silent.

“Are Marko and Chao-Xing still on board?”

“Yes. They are his deep-bond partners.”

“So they can’t leave.”

“They can, with his cooperation. But—you saw how he treats them.” His attention narrowed in on Typhon. That tightened our connection to a trickle, so I only got glimmers of what Nadim heard and felt. But fear, Nadim had an ocean of it. Through him, I sensed that Typhon was a black hole of a presence, radiating grim menace.

And then he was talking. Not to me, of course. Elder Typhon didn’t deign to talk to insects. I felt the booming waves of vibration that rang through Nadim like a shout, and his involuntary flinch, as if he was afraid of being hit again. I put my hand on the wall beside me, trying to send him comfort and support, but I didn’t know if he felt it. His focus was all on the other Leviathan, and for good reason. I was still shell-shocked from before, but that didn’t matter right now. Outside threats mattered more than my feelings. Always would.

Beatriz arrived at a run, tying her curls behind her head as she slid to a halt beside me. She didn’t ask questions, just took in the intimidating view from the window and then scanned the console. “Can we lose him?” she asked.

It was a sensible question, but I knew from my training that even at his best speed, Nadim wasn’t fast enough to outrun Typhon.

I shook my head. Nadim’s dread seeped into my head, making it hard for me to be logical. Bea didn’t seem to be feeling it as much.

“Then can we fight?”

“With what? Near as I can tell, Leviathan fight by ramming each other, and Typhon’s big enough to crush Nadim. I don’t think anything we have in our weapons locker will be more than a flea bite on him.” I thought of the weapon I’d assembled for Nadim, on the day that Bea was trying so desperately to finish her qualifications. If only we’d installed that . . . but it might not have mattered. At all.

She hummed a little in the back of her throat, gaze intent on the console. That was her thinking mode, an absently musical one as she analyzed.

Bea pointed to the star we were orbiting. “Do you think Nadim’s fast enough to get on the far side before Typhon can catch him?”

“Maybe. What good will that do?”

“It’s cover. Even Leviathan have to avoid flying too close, and surely it blinds them. Maybe not their eyes, but the noise it produces—”