Starflight (Starflight, #1)(68)

While Doran suppressed the urge to vomit, the woman lifted a hand to her heart and blushed—actually blushed—as a soft gasp parted her lips.

She was really falling for this tripe?

“You’re breathtaking,” Kane whispered. “I hope you don’t mind me saying so.”

The woman flapped a dismissive hand.

“You might slap me for this,” Kane murmured, “but I have to tell you…” Then he pressed his mouth to her ear and said something that made her giggle harder than a freshman at a slumber party.

Doran took that as his cue to make an exit.

He retreated a pace, and then another, while towing Solara along with him. Once they reached a safe distance, he flagged Cassia over, and the three of them made their way quickly to the other end of the festival grounds.

“So much for lying low,” Solara said into her bag of nuts.

“Don’t worry about it,” Cassia told her. “Kane could seduce the wings off a bird. It’s his one useful talent.”

“Does he do that often?” Solara asked.

Cassia laughed while helping herself to a handful of nuts. “He’s been charming his way out of trouble since we were kids.”

That caught Doran’s attention. “You grew up together?”

“Yes, but not on Louron. He was lying about that.”

“Where, then?”

The shift in her expression warned that she would dodge the question, which she did with a flick of her wrist. “Just a small colony in another sector. You’ve probably never heard of it.”

Worried she might shut down completely, Doran decided not to press for the planet’s name. Instead, he asked, “How’d you end up on the Banshee?”

He noticed that Cassia started rubbing her throat, but she dropped her hand when she saw him watching. Then she fixed her gaze on the ground. “Things are complicated at home. We’ll go back someday, when it all dies down.”

Her typically sharp tone was full of so much sadness that Doran couldn’t bring himself to ask any more questions. Something terrible had obviously prompted her to leave home, and prying information out of her felt like kicking a puppy.

They wandered in silence back to the town square to browse the vendor tables. Cassia’s mood brightened when Kane caught up with them.

“So, did you make a new friend?” she asked with a teasing grin.

Kane wrinkled his nose and stopped to spit on the street. “Yeah. A friend who chews hash leaves. She kissed me, and now I’ll never get the taste out of my mouth.”

“Here,” Solara said, holding out the bag of nuts. “Maybe this will help.”

Cassia intercepted the bag and arched a haughty brow at Kane. “Considering the kind of girls you date, this should be an improvement.”

“You seem to care an awful lot about my love life,” Kane told her, snatching the nuts. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”

Cassia drew a breath loud enough to tell anyone within listening distance that Kane had plucked a nerve. “Not in your most twisted fantasies!”

Kane leaned down until their eyes met. “My fantasies aren’t all twisted. I’ll tell you about them if you ask nicely.”

The girl’s lips parted, and then Kane smiled—not the oily grin he used like a weapon, but a barely noticeable curve of his mouth with warmth dancing behind his eyes. Doran had never seen that smile before, so he presumed it was the real thing.

And he’d given it to Cassia.

It was then that Doran understood. Kane was in love with a girl who outranked him by a thousand rungs on the social ladder. It wasn’t clear whether Cassia felt as strongly, but even if she did, she probably wouldn’t let herself get serious with him. Not if she intended to return home. Doran almost felt sorry for the guy. The tension inside their quarters had to be combustive enough to launch a missile. No wonder they fought all the time.

The look Solara gave him said she’d noticed it, too.

Cassia spun around and turned her attention to a jewelry display. Kane barely had time to dodge the girl’s flying dreadlocks when she reached out blindly and clutched his arm.

“Kane,” she breathed, eyes locked on the table.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

They all gathered around the table and watched as Cassia lifted a necklace from its stand. It was a simple design, just a black cord with a blue marbled pendant set in tarnished silver. Doran didn’t see what all the fuss was about.

The vendor, a wrinkled man with tufts of gray chest hair protruding from his collar, swept a hand toward the necklace. “It’s an Eturian prayer stone, used for—”

“I know what it is,” Cassia snapped. “How much?”

He motioned for her to come closer, then whispered in her ear.

“What?” she cried, recoiling. “Are you mad? That’s a month’s wages.”

The vendor’s answering shrug said he didn’t care. “It’s a simple issue of supply and demand. No one’s been able to export from Eturia since the war began.”

Cassia’s hand went slack, dropping to her side. “What war?” she asked in barely a whisper. “When did it start? Which kingdoms are fighting?”

Another shrug. “Even if I knew, it wouldn’t change my price.”