Starfall (Starflight #2)(42)

“Before it’s too late.” Kane reached out to steady himself on the wall. Maybe he should’ve listened and sat down, because now his limbs seemed to have disconnected from his torso. “But she was okay when I talked to her the other day.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Kane nodded at the blur of dials and knobs. “Can you set the frequency?”

“Of course.” Renny entered the code and delivered one final pat on the shoulder. “I’ll give you some privacy. If you need me, just say the word. I’ll be right downstairs.”

Renny left the bridge, and it suddenly occurred to Kane that he wasn’t ready for this. He wanted to stop the call—it was happening too fast—but he couldn’t remember how to operate the equipment. He felt a sick sensation of spinning, as though he’d climbed aboard a carnival ride and couldn’t get off.

The transmission connected, and a man’s rough voice answered. Kane recognized it as the farmer’s. The man sounded like he’d been crying, and that made Kane’s throat squeeze.

“I want to talk to Rena. Tell her it’s Ka—” He cut off and said instead, “Tell her it’s Doodlebug.”



Sometime later, he sat alone on the bottom bunk of the quarters he shared with Renny, slouched over with his head in his hands and staring blankly at the floor. He pulled in a breath and let it go. That was all he could do. His mind was as empty as a broken barrel. It seemed he should be crying or hurting or at least feeling guilty for leaving his mother behind, but more than anything, he felt numb.

His mom would be dead before morning.

He couldn’t absorb it.

Cassia knocked on the door in three soft raps. He knew it was her because she always delivered two taps with a long rest before the third. He also knew he wouldn’t have to tell her to come in. Her knocks were more of a warning than a request.

He didn’t look up when she stepped inside, or when she shut the door and sat next to him on the cot. He felt the mattress sink and then the heat of her arm pressed against his. They sat that way for a while, just leaning on each other, until she dug in her pocket for something and held it in his line of vision. It was the prayer necklace he’d bought for her.

“I was thinking,” she said, and brushed a thumb over the blue stone pendant. “I’ve had this necklace for months and I never really used it.” She linked an arm through his. “Want to help me break it in?”

He watched her caress the marbled gem. He had never used a prayer stone, either. He wasn’t religious. He’d only visited the temple when his mother had made him go, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d chanted a requiem. But despite that, he opened his palm and let Cassia sandwich the stone between their hands. Somehow, this felt like the right thing to do.

“Close your eyes,” she said.

He did as she asked and visualized his mother, not the way she looked now, but with her cheeks full and smiling. That was how he wanted to remember her. Then he focused on channeling his energy into the stone and imagined that energy multiplying and reaching out to his mother while Cassia recited a traditional prayer for the dying.

“Spirits of our kin, greet your sister Rena and aid her in passing beyond the veil between our worlds. Take her in your arms and give her peace. Guide her into paradise and grant her rest from her labors. Comfort her until we meet again.”

“Until we meet again,” Kane dutifully repeated.

The prayer ended, and he released Cassia’s hand. He couldn’t say he felt any different. If anything, the hollowness within him had grown deeper—so deep he imagined he could swallow a pebble and never hear it hit the bottom of his stomach.

Cassia stroked his arm. “Talk to me.”

“The way you talked to me?”

“That’s fair,” she admitted. “I shouldn’t have shut you out because of Shanna. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You shut me out long before then.”

“All right, I should have told you about my nightmares, too. I still have them sometimes, but not as often. I’m sleeping a lot better now.”

“I know. The circles under your eyes are gone.”

“Maybe they would have left sooner if I’d let you help me. Let me help you. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

He wanted to, but his head swirled with clouded thoughts that were hard to verbalize. Everything was changing so fast. His home didn’t feel like home anymore. The only girl he’d ever loved was slipping away, and once his mother left him, he would lose his family.

“It’s all going sideways.” His voice sounded empty to his own ears. “I want to stop it, but I can’t. Nothing is the same as it used to be.”

She made a noise of understanding and twirled a finger at the base of his head to comfort him, just like she’d done a thousand times in the past. But his hair was too short to wrap around her finger. That had changed, too.

“Look at me.”

Slowly, he glanced her way.

She gazed at him with softness in her honey-brown eyes, but not pity, and he finally understood why she had wanted him to treat her normally after the kidnapping. The only thing that could make this situation worse was knowing she felt sorry for him. As she stroked his hair, she didn’t fill the silence with platitudes like Everything happens for a reason or It’ll be all right. She was simply present. That was more important than words, and she knew it. Somehow she always understood what he needed.