“Fantastic,” Beckett mutters.
I ignore her. “In the meantime, why don’t we keep busy and search the ship? Maybe we’ll find something that can help us navigate.”
“Of course we will, because the last people to fly this thing obviously kept their navigation tools in the cargo bay,” she answers.
And yep, it’s official. I don’t like her. I suspect the feeling is mutual.
Ian gets up and stretches, and I find myself staring at him as he rolls his shoulders. Not because he’s hot—though he’s definitely that, and he knows it—but because he looks…lawless. In the guard uniform, he had a veneer of legitimacy. He looked like he belonged, like he fit in. In what I presume are his own clothes, he definitely doesn’t. More, he looks like he doesn’t want to.
For someone who’s always had to act and speak and be exactly how her mother—and her people—expected her to be, his freedom to just exist as he is is strangely enticing.
He’s strangely enticing.
In Senestris, people are what they are born to be. If you’re born a farmer, you’re a farmer for life. If you’re a merchant, you’re a merchant for life. And if you’re a princess, the same goes.
With almost no exceptions, it’s the same for where you’re born. If you’re born on Kridacus, that’s where you live and where you die. The only people outside that system are the Corporation, who live off-planet, mainly on space stations. And outlaws.
It’s pretty obvious by now that Ian is not working legitimately for the Corporation. Which leaves outlaw.
He certainly looks the part. Dressed in black leather pants that fit him like a second skin, long boots, a dark red shirt, and a black jacket, he looks lean, mean, and dangerous, between the pistol on his hip and the fuck-everything look in his dark-brown eyes. He’s also sexier than he has any right to be, but maybe that’s just me. My attraction to bad boys is my deepest, darkest secret, even more so than my strange dreams. Not even the Council’s truth seekers have been able to get me to admit it.
Not that I’m attracted to Ian. No way. Bad boys are one thing. Homicidal assholes are another.
But then he turns and our eyes meet as he watches me watching him.
Shit. Could I be more obvious?
He raises a brow as if inviting me to engage.
But princesses don’t do that—I don’t do that. Instead, I look away, despite the tiny part of me that wants to take Ian up on his offer, no matter how dangerous—how foolhardy—it might be.
“Okay, then,” he says after a too-long pause. “Gage, you and Max stay here and see if you can figure out how this thing works and how to get us to Askkandia. The rest of us will scour the ship for anything that might be of use, especially anything to drink or eat. We’ll meet back here afterward and work out what to do next.”
As soon as he mentions food and drink, my stomach grumbles a third time and my mouth feels like a desert has taken up residence in it. But the discomfort doesn’t stop me from realizing that, in this one thing, Ian has taken my side—and my suggestion.
It’s not a big deal. Any normal person would want to inventory the ship they’re flying through space in at an alarming speed, but still. Considering my trying to take charge didn’t go well, it still feels good to know my suggestion had some value to him—to all of these people. My mother’s way didn’t work. They despise me. So maybe this is a chance to become a leader my way, a different way.
It almost makes me want to do it again, to be valuable to them. Almost.
I drag my gaze from the beautiful little bottles, because staring at them is only making my thirst stronger. But when I glance behind me, it’s to find Rain watching me with thoughtful eyes.
She gives me a small smile, then steps toward Max and says, “Could I have a drink, please? I’m feeling a little…faint. And my throat hurts from all the smoke.”
“Of course.”
“I think we should be rationing it,” Ian warns. Just because he’s right doesn’t mean he isn’t also a control freak.
“A little sip now won’t hurt anyone. Here.” Max hands a bottle to Rain, who takes a small drink before holding it out to me.
I hesitate a second but then can’t resist. Thank you. I mouth the words because I know what she did. She saw my need and recognized that I was too proud to act on it. She’s a good person, even if she is part of the Sisterhood.
I lift the bottle to my lips, and the water tastes like the finest alcohol I’ve ever drunk. Better, even. I want to guzzle it down, but I force myself to stop at one mouthful. Because Ian is right. We need to be careful with the meager resources we have.
“All right, then. Let’s get to work.” Ian whirls around and heads out the door, which slides open as he approaches. I hurry to catch up. It probably won’t work, but I want to have another go at persuading him that it’s a good idea to take me home.
Outside the bridge, the lighting is a dim warm glow, almost nonexistent. To the left is what looks like a double door—I’m presuming the main exit, the one that didn’t work. Through a door right ahead is the airlock where we entered, and then beyond that, two corridors head left and right, curving around a closed-in central area. Drawn by something I don’t understand, I press my palm to the wall. It’s warm, and there’s a faint vibration. There’s a smooth black door, but it’s firmly locked—I can’t help but wonder what’s inside. But Ian is disappearing down the corridor to the right, and I set off after him.
I can see the outlines of a number of doors on the outer wall, but Ian passes them, and I follow him down what must be the length of the ship, maybe about twenty meters altogether. I catch up as we reach a door that I presume leads to the rear section of the ship. It slides open as Ian comes to a halt in front of it. He disappears inside. So far, he’s made no indication that he knows I’m here, though I’m pretty sure he does and he’s just ignoring me.
“You might as well come in and stop hovering,” he says all of a sudden.
I step into the room. “What is this place?” I ask, determined to gloss over the fact that I obviously followed him here.
“I think it’s the engine room, though I’ve never seen one like it. I’m not even sure what’s powering this thing, to be honest. I just know it doesn’t feel like the same as the thrusters on the ships I’ve been on.”
“Have you been on a lot of ships?” I ask, suddenly curious about him. But why shouldn’t I be? My life is in his hands, which is pretty scary considering his proclivity for weapons.
Ian raises his brow at the question but eventually shrugs. “I’ve been on a few, Princess. How about you?”
“The flight to the Caelestis was my first.”
Shock flares in his eyes at that. “I somehow thought you royals would be flitting all over the place, having fun.”
“Which just goes to show what you know about the Ruling Families. All space travel is controlled by the Corporation, and we don’t have fun. We do our duty.”
“Of course you do.”
I ignore the sarcasm and look around. We’re in the broadest part of the triangle that makes up the ship, and the room is long and narrow but with sections extending into the ship’s tail. The walls and ceiling are made up of the same dark matte metal as the corridors, and the floor is remarkably dust-free for such an old ship. There are lots of consoles, but all of them are blank right now, and there aren’t even any flashing lights. I trail my finger over the nearest, and a tingle runs through me, almost like static.