Starflight (Starflight, #1)(50)
Solara’s stomach felt sick.
She shouldn’t be doing this, speculating and jumping to conclusions as if she owned him. It wasn’t like she wanted Doran to boost her endorphins.
So why was her face throbbing in time with her pulse?
“Let it go,” she muttered. “It doesn’t matter.”
“What doesn’t matter?” asked Cassia, leaning her fair head out the open door to her bedroom.
Solara stopped short, clutching the ball gown to her chest. She faked a smile and said “Nothing,” but she couldn’t help surveying the girl with new eyes. She looked past the dishwater blond dreadlocks, dull and coarse from months of neglect, and beyond the unmade copper-hued face to the mannerisms beneath.
Cassia had gone to great lengths to hide her privileged upbringing, but there it was—a slightly haughty lift of her chin that allowed the tiny ship hand to look down at Solara despite their height difference. Cassia’s body language resembled Doran’s in that way, self-assured and completely in control. He was right. They were two of a kind.
“You okay?” Cassia asked.
“I’m just nervous about the job,” Solara lied. “Do you think you can make me pretty? I’ve never worn makeup before, so I need all the help I can get.”
“No problem. Come on in.”
When Solara followed inside, curiosity hijacked her body. She rushed Cassia in a hug, locking both arms around the girl under the pretense of gratitude while burying her nose for a deep whiff. An enchanted garden filled her senses, seeming to originate from beneath the skin instead of on the surface. It was heavenly. Cassia stiffened at the ambush, and Solara stepped back, battling a surge of envy. She wished she could smell of springtime breezes instead of engine grease.
“Thanks,” Solara said. “You’re the best.”
Cassia’s room bore a striking resemblance to hers, except with one bunk stacked atop the other instead of a full-size bed. She noticed Kane watching her from the top bunk, a protein bar suspended an inch from his lips. He wore the same puzzled expression as Cassia, their blond heads tipped at precisely the same angle as they tried to make sense of her abrupt display of affection.
Solara greeted him with a cool nod.
He recovered then, apologizing with his eyes. “Hey, I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have run my mouth like that. I didn’t mean a word of it. That was the Crystalline talking.”
Solara wasn’t sure if she believed him. He’d seemed plenty sober to her.
“Doran’s already banged up,” Kane went on. “The last thing he needs is me making him feel worse.” Dipping his head, he asked, “Did you tell him what I said?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Then maybe we can keep it between us,” Kane suggested. “I like Doran. He’s a good guy, and I don’t want the rest of the trip to feel awkward.”
Solara rubbed the dress between her fingers, unsure of what to do. Kane seemed sincere, but her first loyalty was to Doran, and she still felt he had a right to know.
“I’ll think about it,” she said. To change the subject, she added, “We should hurry. Renny wants to leave soon.”
“Sure.” Kane’s lips slid into an easy grin, as if nothing had happened. “But you don’t need holographic goop to make you pretty.”
“Of course she doesn’t,” Cassia agreed, and reached up for a bite of his snack. She tore off a chunk and handed it back, then pointed at her own face and clarified, “Well, except for the bruises.”
“And the birthmark,” Kane added. “It’s cute, but it’s an easy giveaway.”
Despite having not fully forgiven him, Solara felt her mouth curve up. “You think my birthmark’s cute?”
His impish grin widened, his voice dipping low and smooth. “I think every part of you is cute.”
Cassia responded by climbing the bunk ladder and smacking her roommate upside the head. When he gaped in protest, she thrust a finger at him and hissed, “I like this one. Leave her alone.”
Kane rubbed his head and scooted to the other end of his mattress, not that it afforded him any protection from the furious girl glaring at him hard enough to singe off his eyebrows. “I was just being friendly. What’s wrong with that?”
“You and I both know what you were doing,” Cassia snapped. “Now, get down here and help me.”
The argument made Solara wonder, for the hundredth time, how the ship hands knew each other. Despite their sharp looks and harsh words, they moved through the Banshee like planets in orbit, sharing everything from meals to inside jokes with a comfortable familiarity unique to siblings. But if they really were brother and sister, why the differences in their body language? With his shameless stare and flirty smile, Kane acted like someone who’d regularly seduced for his supper, not a trust fund baby.
The two of them took a break from bickering long enough to decide that Kane would style her hair while Cassia handled the makeup. Then they ushered her onto a stool facing the bottom bunk and got down to business: Kane brushing her hair from behind while Cassia sat cross-legged on the mattress sorting through a box of cosmetics.
From her new vantage point, Solara noticed an assortment of photographs taped to the wall beside Cassia’s bed. She spotted Kane in one of them, his arm slung playfully around Cassia’s neck as they toasted each other with cups of red juice. Hellberry wine, maybe. The other photographs were of landscapes—lush, rolling hills of lavender giving way to an endless indigo lake, its ripples reflecting the glow of twin moons. Solara had never seen a place so breathtaking, and she caught herself frowning when Cassia blocked the view by leaning in to dust powder on her cheeks.