“So that would be a great way to screw things up,” Kiem said grimly. “Even better than killing Taam.”
Jainan shook his head. It gave his stomach a painful twist to even consider the idea, but he couldn’t fault Kiem’s logic.
Kiem broke another square off with his teeth. “Did you see anyone near our flybug at the base?”
“No.”
“I guess we were inside most of the time. And Heaven knows I don’t keep tabs on my flybug at home.”
Jainan glanced at their tent and noticed for the first time that Kiem had picked a site where they weren’t that visible from the air. The overhang provided some cover. “For what it’s worth, it would have been easier to carry out the sabotage at the palace,” Jainan said. “More people come and go from the garages there. But it could have been either.”
“Or it was an accident.”
“Yes.” Jainan didn’t bother saying any more.
Kiem thoughtfully flicked some crumbs off his leg. “I hope Internal Security does a better job with this investigation than the last one.”
He broke off another ration square and leaned against the backpack, which shifted to reveal something poking out of the top. It was wrapped in Kiem’s spare sweater. The part that was sticking out glinted.
Jainan leaned over and disentangled what looked like a trowel. It was either made of gold metal or convincingly gilded. He raised his eyebrows at Kiem. “Gardening?”
“Ah,” Kiem said. He looked faintly guilty. “Um. That’s the school prize. I thought we’d better not lose it.”
Jainan weighed it in his hand. It had a solid heft and must have contributed to the weight of the bag. “So we are instead … carrying it over kilometers of trackless tundra?”
“Well. It belongs to the school.”
“They could get a new one.”
“But this one has all the names on it, see?” Kiem took it and turned it over. “It might be important to someone.”
“A school prize.”
“Just because it’s not important doesn’t mean it’s not important to someone,” Kiem said. He must have mistaken Jainan’s look for doubt, because he looked faintly stubborn and said, “I’ll carry it.”
“Mm, no,” Jainan said. He took the trowel back, wrapped it up in the sweater, and stowed it carefully back in the rucksack. “I think it’s a good idea.” It would not have occurred to him to do it. It had obviously not occurred to Kiem not to do it.
Kiem sat back, more relaxed, and tilted his head to look up at the sky. His breath misted in the freezing air. It was absurd to be content, when Jainan’s shoulder still ached and they were in the middle of nowhere, in snow and treacherous terrain, relying on reaching a rail line to get back to civilization. More absurd when Jainan thought about the wreckage of their flybug behind them and all the people at the palace or the base who might have had access to sabotage it. He felt it anyway.
Jainan shifted position to cross his legs, and his knee came into contact with Kiem’s. He didn’t even realize he’d done it until Kiem twitched and drew up his legs to put space between them.
The contentment receded. Jainan struggled to hold on to it, then realized it was in vain, and let it go. He let out a breath and let the twinge of humiliation recede with it. “It’s been a long day,” he said, because it seemed the least awkward way to apologize.
“Very long. So long,” Kiem agreed, though he was still holding himself awkwardly to avoid touching Jainan. He turned it into a scramble to his feet. “You know what! I think I’m going to go to bed.”
“Yes,” Jainan said. He got to his feet as well. “Do you want—”
Kiem had already grabbed one of the sleeping bags. “There isn’t enough room in there,” he said. “I’ll sleep out here.”
“What,” Jainan said blankly.
“These things are rated for outdoors, and there’s no wind,” Kiem said, unfolding the sleeping bag. “Perfect conditions.”
“Oh,” Jainan said, feeling leaden. It was a reasonable solution; sleeping in the same small tent would have been extremely awkward. “No, I have the bedroom at home. Take the tent.”
“This is not your problem,” Kiem said, intently not-looking at Jainan. “You’re not sleeping outside because of something that is in no conceivable universe your problem.”
It wasn’t worth fighting about. “All right. Yes.”
“All right,” Kiem repeated. The relief was unmistakable; Kiem always wore his emotions on his sleeve. “I’ll just get some water. I think there’s a stream still running over there.”
Jainan turned away and crawled into the tent. He could identify the odd sadness now. It came from the same source as the joy: life had been good to him, unexpectedly, but it wasn’t fair to try and stretch it out. If he had any regard for Kiem, any gratitude, he would have to try and think of a way out for him—some way that Kiem could live his own life, not shackled to someone he wasn’t attracted to. This couldn’t go on.
CHAPTER 17
Kiem was already sitting up and taking stock when the dawn sky started to lighten.
He still hadn’t managed to come to terms with someone wanting him or Jainan dead. He could go over the facts as much as he liked—someone had swapped out Taam’s crash data, someone must want the treaty in trouble—but even though he kept listening out for the drone of a flybug coming after them, he couldn’t make himself believe it. Nobody had ever had a grudge against Kiem. He didn’t really make enemies.
They were doing as well as they could, given the circumstances. It wasn’t Kiem’s fault that Taam had been up to his ears in shady transactions, or that the Auditor wouldn’t instate them yet. It wasn’t his fault their flybug had crashed or that someone might have enough of a grudge to sabotage it. Maybe if Kiem hadn’t taken them off their scheduled flight path, they wouldn’t have to trek to find help, but they were doing all right at the trekking. The only problem that was really, indisputably his fault was Jainan.
It wasn’t fair to phrase it like that. The problem wasn’t with Jainan himself; it was all on Kiem’s side. If Kiem had managed to be less weird last night, they might still be almost friends, or whatever it was they had been recently.
Kiem absently dug up a handful of the snow beside him in his gloves and packed it into a ball. He needed to get a grip on himself. He and Jainan had managed to reach some kind of fragile stability, and if Kiem carried on like this, he was going to screw it up for both of them.
“Is this the prelude to a snowball fight?” a voice said from behind him. “I should warn you: unlike your usual school fete opponents, I am not five years old.”
Kiem grinned and tossed the snowball in his hand, banishing the introspection. “So much the better,” he said. “Have you ever faced twenty five-year-olds? They’re terrifying.” He tossed the snowball again, but it fell apart when he tried to catch it. “Dammit.”
“Structurally unsound,” Jainan said. “Blame the contractors.” One corner of his mouth was pulled up in a smile, but there was a tension underneath it. Kiem hoped he was hiding his own better. “How are we set for today?”