Starflight (Starflight, #1)(45)

“You didn’t know any better.”

“No, but I should have. Nothing comes for free in life—not food or land or clothes, and especially not gold. Deep down I knew it was too good to be true, but I took the necklace anyway. And you paid for my mistake, Doran. You could have died.”

He didn’t answer at first. He waited until she met his gaze, then flashed a grin that softened the edges of her guilt. “I’m fine, really. This is surface damage. My devilish good looks aren’t lost forever.”

“Demarkus hurt you.”

“Yeah, but I gave it back,” Doran said. “If it makes you feel any better, he’s probably still looking for his left nut.”

Solara couldn’t help laughing. “That does make me feel better.”

“Me too.”

“Listen,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

Now it was his turn to avoid her eyes. He fell silent for a while, fidgeting with his jacket’s zipper pull until he quietly cleared his throat. “I’m pretty sure I’ve got more to apologize for than you do. When I tried leaving you alone at that outpost, I had no idea what it’s really like out here. I hate to think…” He trailed off, peeking down at her. “But maybe we can call it even and start over?”

She nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Good. Then it’s settled.”

“And thanks,” she told him. “I owe my freedom to you. You don’t know me very well, but nothing means more to me than that.”

“Anytime.” His gaze moved over her face in a way that made her blush. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

Their eyes held for a beat of silence, and the mood shifted. Solara could swear she felt something electric pass between them. One of his hands still rested on her hip, and she became hyper-aware of its weight and its warmth. But then he seemed to take note of their closeness and stepped back. The moment ended so quickly that she wondered if she’d imagined the whole thing. She couldn’t decide whether to feel disappointed or relieved.

“Sorry,” he said. “I probably stink like a corpse.”

She cradled the propellant cell to her chest and inched toward the engine room. “I hadn’t noticed. The only thing I smell anymore is burnt porridge.”

“You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“Of course not,” she told him while striding away. “It’s my duty to give you hell. That’s what friends are for.”




Two hours later, when the Banshee was sailing smoothly once again, Solara followed the sounds of laughter to the lounge, where a party seemed to be under way. She walked inside and found the crew sitting around the holographic fireplace, leaning toward Doran to hang on his every word. He reclined in his chair, head tipped back with a gel mask covering his face, not that it stopped him from spinning a lively tale.

“And then,” Doran said, practically choking on a chuckle, “he told me, I like your spirit, boy. I’m going to try not to kill you.”

The captain slapped his knee and heaved a mighty guffaw that shook his chest. In response, Acorn climbed out of his pocket and scampered to his knee, then spread her furry arms and glided to the floor. “I bet he’s eating those words right now.”

“With a steaming side of crow,” Renny added, removing his glasses to wipe a tear from his eye. “I wish I could’ve been there.”

“Me too,” the captain said. “I’d give my fake leg to see the look on his face when you punched him in the short and curlies.”

“Who wouldn’t?” Cassia asked with a grin that transformed her face from fierce to beautiful. She should smile more often. “We’d make a mint if we got our hands on the video feed.” She elbowed Kane, who sat beside her, but he wasn’t laughing.

Unlike the others, he glared at Doran with an intensity that prickled Solara’s nerves. She had no idea what his problem was, but she didn’t like it.

“How’s our hero?” Solara asked while watching Kane. Their eyes met, and he must’ve sensed her apprehension because he looked away and offered Acorn a chunk of dried fruit.

“I’m fannntastic,” Doran called from beneath his mask, and thrust both thumbs in the air. He sounded drunk, or at least buzzed. “How’s our divorcée?”

“Still single, thanks for asking.” She admired his relaxed posture. “But I wouldn’t mind sharing a sip of whatever you’ve had.”

Cassia stood from her chair to check on Doran. “I gave him some painkillers before I set his nose. He’s still a little loopy.” She lifted his gel mask to reveal a nose splint, and right away Solara noticed the swelling had subsided.

“Wow,” she said. “Nice job. He looks almost human.”

“I can’t take all the credit.” Cassia pointed at a jar on the floor that seemed to be filled with squirming black slugs. “That’s the magic of camelback leeches. They drain twice the fluid in half the time.”

Solara wrinkled her nose. “Whatever works, I guess. I didn’t know those existed.”

“I knew the woman who bred the first pair,” Cassia said. “She was one of my teachers, and she passed along a few of her healing tricks.”