“Does it matter?” I ask. “I’m free now.”
For a second, I think she’s going to push on my health. While a part of me wants somebody to, that’s not what I need to talk about right now. “I have a lead, Mom. To Jarved.”
“Your brother is dead.” Her tone is final, with absolutely no room for argument. And I get it. For a long time I couldn’t bring myself to even think about Jarved, either. I missed him so much.
I still miss him that much, but I’ve gone over and over the Milla thing in my head. Gone over and over the fact that I almost ended up in the exact same place. No matter how hard I try to resist imagining that my brother might be alive, the thought has taken root. And nothing will make me let it go except knowing for sure.
I fill my mother in on what happened to me—the capture, the jailing, the experiments on the Caelestis. And then I tell her all the reasons I think Jarved is still alive.
When I’m done, her cheeks are drained of color and her eyes have lost their spark of joy. In its place is a fury I’m all too familiar with. Like mother, like daughter, after all.
“This is what they did to you?” she asks. “Experiments? Torture? To what end?”
“I don’t know,” I answer. “I have holes in my memory—I don’t remember a lot of it. Just…”
“Just what?” she asks in a voice as cold as Glacea’s moons.
“The pain.” It feels good to admit it to someone. And while a part of me worries I’m weak for saying it, I figure if I can’t tell my mother, who can I tell? Even if she is known as a butcher.
“Tell me where you are,” she urges again. “And I’ll come for you myself.”
“That’s actually why I was calling. I have a proposition for you.”
“For me?” she repeats, sounding wary.
“For the Rebellion.” I fill her in on the details—the Wilds, the Reformer, the raiders and human traffickers. And some other stuff, too—the heptosphere, the Starlight. Maybe more than I should, but it feels nice to talk to my mom. To see her nod. I finish with, “The people I’m with have money. We can pay for your help.”
“You’re talking about a chance to strike back at the bastards who tortured my daughter and more than likely murdered my son. I’d do it for free.” My brows go up—my mother doesn’t do anything for free.
Before I can even ask her about it, she gives me a rueful smile. “I’m glad I don’t have to, mind you, but I would.”
Now that sounds much more like my mother.
“We’re going to need weapons. And someone to cause a diversion so we can sneak in and find Milla and Jarved.”
“What kind of weapons are you thinking about?” she asks, all business now.
I pull up the list Merrick, Ian, and I put together this morning and rattle off what we need.
She whistles. “That’s a lot of firepower, baby girl.”
“Our information tells us there are a lot of guards. And a lot of security.”
She nods her understanding. “Are you sure you want to get yourself involved in this? It seems like there’s a lot of potential to get captured again—”
“He’s my brother,” I tell her. “I have to check.”
Her smile is sad but proud. “You wouldn’t be my daughter if you didn’t.” She glances down at the list she typed on her own console. “It’s going to take me a few days to get this together.”
“That’s okay. We’re several days away from Glacea.”
“How do you know I’m still there?” she asks. “I could be anywhere.”
“You could,” I agree. “But I recognize the wall behind you. It’s from the rebel base on Glacea.”
“You never did miss a trick,” she answers with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her sad eyes. “I’ll see you soon, my darling.”
“I’ll see you soon, Mom.”
“Before you go,” she says. “Who are these people you’re with? Just so I know what to expect.”
This is where it gets tricky. Do I tell her everything?
In the end, I settle for the truth that isn’t actually the whole truth. “Just some people from when the Caelestis exploded,” I say vaguely. “They were escaping the wreck and let me come along with them.”
“The Caelestis?” Her eyes sharpen, lose the softness reserved for me and my brother, and become the cold, dead eyes of a woman who looks like she actually deserves the nickname Butcher of Narreth.
“The crown princess went missing from the space station,” she mentions in a pondering tone. “Along with the high priestess from Serati.”
“Seems like you know a lot about it,” I say.
“It’s my job to know about it.” She gives me a hard look through the screen. “Are you traveling with Princess Kalinda?”
And now I’m cornered. “I’m not sure she’s a princess anymore,” I hedge. “She and the Empress had a huge blowout.”
“Their types always do.” My mother waves a careless hand. “But when it comes down to it, they’re always loyal to each other. The Empire above all else—even human decency. We’ve seen it a million times.”
Normally, she’s right. But I still don’t think Kali will go back. I saw her face on that roof, when she was fleeing from her mother’s soldiers. And I’ve seen her since, when she’s trying not to think about all the terrible, terrible things her mother has done. But I’m not naive enough to say something as incendiary as Kali’s different, Mom. Partly because I’m still getting used to the idea that she is and partly because my mother won’t care. She’s very clear about what her mission statement is, and Death to the Empire is a big start.
Which is why I’m not even surprised when she gives me a speculative look. She says, “Kill the princess, and you can tell your friends that I’ll give them the weapons—and the aerial support—for free. Choose to keep her alive, and the deal will cost them. Probably more than they have to give.”
Of that, I have no doubt. My mother has a way of making people wish they’d never been born—including me, on occasion. It’s not the way I like to live, but I get that sometimes it’s a necessity.
“I’ll see you soon, baby,” my mother says as she signs off. “And don’t worry. We’ll figure out how to get the princess, and we’ll see if your brother’s alive. No matter what it takes.”
The screen goes dark, and I lay my head down on the dash in front of me and try not to cry. Normally, it’s not that hard, but right now, finally beating the tears back feels like a miracle.
Chapter 87
Rain
I wake up to find the bed next to me empty. Again. A quick glance at the clock above the door tells me it’s the middle of the night. Beckett promised she would come to bed tonight, just like she promised she would come to bed every one of the last few nights. It hasn’t happened yet.
Most nights I just lay here and wait for her, heart breaking a little bit more with each hour that goes by. But tonight I don’t have it in me to just wait around for a woman who’s never going to come. Maybe that’s because I don’t have any more heart left to break.