Honor Among Thieves (The Honors #1)(77)

“Yes,” Nadim said, suddenly very interested in what we were saying. “If I can get very close, the starsong will baffle his senses. Not for long, but maybe long enough.”

“Did he track you? Or did that other Leviathan who responded to our distress call tell him about what happened?” Bea asked.

“Likely the latter would be the case,” Nadim said. “According to Zara’s account, you frightened his Honor. He would have sought help.”

“Look, the guy had a million tentacles,” I said. “Don’t pick a girl who shoots first if you don’t want her to, all right?”

You know how I am. That’s on you. Or the Elders. I knew it was on me too, but still.

Bea brushed that aside. “Doesn’t matter. If Typhon didn’t track us, and he was told where to find us, then we might be able to lose him. True?”

“Perhaps.” Nadim sounded relieved. “But I should be sure of what he wants before we run. It—it could be more than just punishment.”

“I still think we should run,” I said.

“Zara.” My name sounded gentle from him, and it relaxed some of my tense wariness. “Typhon is harsh. But he is not irrational. He won’t hurt you or Beatriz.”

“But he’ll hurt you,” I said. “And I’m tired of you getting hurt.”

“I have to speak with him. I will try to be brief.”

Typhon, as far as I was concerned, had nothing that I wanted to hear about, and imagining Marko with those dead-black eyes again, stranded aboard, made me sick. Unequal bond was the same thing as Typhon playing with human dolls, and Marko deserved better. Hell, I might not like Chao-Xing, but she did too. It was sickening.

And there was nothing I could do about it.

Nadim and Typhon had some Leviathan-level exchange; I could feel the rumbles through my boots. With my hands on the human-built console, it was harder to sense what he was feeling. He was being very careful to keep it all buttoned up tight just now.

Beatriz put in a course that would swing us under the burning ball of the sun at the closest safe distance, then vector us away into the dark while Typhon’s senses were confused. It might work. Maybe. Her fingers hovered over the controls, and she was listening, just as I was, for the slightest hint of trouble.

But it didn’t come as a hint.

Our comm activated, and both Bea and I jumped in surprise. Chao-Xing’s calm, measured voice said, “Honors. Lie flat on the floor. Do it now.”

“What?” Bea blurted. I hit the button to reply.

“Why?”

“We wish to avoid unnecessary injury to you. You have five seconds to comply.”

“Punch it!” I yelled to Bea, and she reached for the panel. Just as she touched the activation button, the entire data console shut down. Powered off completely, like someone had pulled an emergency switch. Not Nadim’s doing—I could feel his surge of astonishment, and then grim determination.

“Please lie down,” Nadim said. I heard the fatalism in his voice. “I was warned that if I broke rules on this Tour I would not have another chance to make amends. This is my punishment.”

“That’s insane! We can run! Get away!”

“I am about to try. But you must prepare yourselves now.”

“Nadim!”

“Please, Zara.” My name was almost a caress. “Beatriz. Please comply. I will try to protect you as much as I can.”

I grabbed Beatriz and pulled her to the floor. We accelerated as Nadim dived for the blazing curve of the sun . . . and I glimpsed a flash as Typhon flipped with eerie agility outside the window and slapped Nadim with stunning force with the ventral surface of his tail. Normally, it fanned out into what looked like a delicate structure designed to catch starlight. He’d folded up that fan, and what hit us was like a whip, full of devastating power.

It sliced through Nadim’s skin, crushed fragile tissues, cracked whatever passed for Nadim’s bones. It was a full, cruel blow, a fist to a child, and I screamed into the muffling surface of the floor.

Run, Nadim. Before he destroys you.

But he couldn’t. The blow knocked him off course, and though Nadim dodged and tried again, Typhon was not only faster, he was so much larger that he cut Nadim off easily and knocked him tumbling again, a strike to the injured dorsal side, the fresh scar he’d earned in the debris field. That scar broke open with a hot, wet rush, and I felt Nadim bleeding, smoky silver pouring into the darkness. The newly healed muscles beneath were crushed by the blow.

It was a good thing we were on the floor, but even then, Nadim’s uncontrolled spin sent us rolling, tumbling clumsily around and banging hard into the unforgiving metal of the console. I rolled over the transparent window and for a heart-stopping moment I was gazing into the universe itself and felt it looking back with an intent, uncaring focus. If this membrane ruptures . . .

Typhon hit Nadim again. Again. The strikes were vicious, and Nadim was already weak. This had to stop. Ignoring the danger, I grabbed hold of the edge of the console and hauled myself up with all my strength to slap my hand on the comms control. “Marko!” I shouted. “You have to stop him! He’ll kill Nadim! Stop him! Marko!”

Another shuddering impact flung me into Beatriz, who clutched me tight as we cowered together, wedged into a small alcove as the beating continued . . .