She stands up with a grin. “So do you. Pink suits you.”
“I think so, too.”
Her smile fades into her placid princess face. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”
“Why would I?” After bringing me this jumpsuit, she could ask anything and I would answer it.
“Why don’t you look like the other Seratians? I mean, you’re beautiful, and so is Merrick, but…”
My heart soars at the compliment, even as I know I pale in comparison to the princess. “I don’t have the beautiful skin swirls of most Seratians because my parents are Askkandian.”
“Really? So that’s why you don’t have to wear body armor under your robe like Merrick?”
“Exactly. I do struggle with Askkandian gravity, after all my years on Serati, but not as much as people whose ancestors have lived with Seratian gravity for millennia.”
“You’ll have to tell me how you ended up there sometime, but right now we should get back and show everyone the results of my first-ever shopping trip.”
She grabs the rest of the bags—and her nearly empty gerjgin bottle—and steps into the hallway.
“I’ve never been shopping, either,” I tell her as we make our way back to the bridge. “I never left the monastery before this trip.”
“And I hardly ever left the palace,” she says wistfully. She takes a look at me. “Seems like we’ve both grown up with all these expectations. How we’re supposed to behave, how people are relying on us, blah, blah, blah…”
Boy, have we ever. I grin. “But at least you got to wear nicer clothes.”
“Ugh! You can’t mean the slogg dress. It was so unbelievably uncomfortable.” She does a little twirl in front of me. “This is much better. I can actually move. I couldn’t open my legs in the other one.”
Something about that sounds weird, but it just makes me giggle. “It suits you,” I say, and it’s true. She’s so statuesque. Imposing. Curvaceous, even. I glance down at my own much slighter curves. Blue and pink. I sigh happily.
“Ian picked mine—he said it matched my eyes.”
I press a hand to my heart. “How romantic!” Maybe it’s not so strange that he kissed her if he’s paying attention to the color of her eyes.
“Hah. Not even vaguely.”
Though her expression has turned a little wistful.
As we continue walking, Kali lifts the gerjgin bottle to her lips and drains it. “I could get a taste for this stuff.”
“Something else we have in common,” I tell her with a smile. But when we finally make it back to the bridge, I pause in the doorway as nerves twist in my stomach. I’ve been High Priestess Rain in the cloying white robe for as long as I can remember. I’m not sure I’m ready for anyone else to see me like this.
“Go on.” Kali must have figured out what I’m worried about, because she whispers, “Get in there and wow them. You look amazing.”
I smile my thanks at her, then take a deep breath and decide there won’t be a better time than right now. But as the door to the bridge slides open and I walk in, I’m glad of the alcohol buzz in my brain.
Someone whistles—I’m not sure who, but it definitely isn’t Merrick, because he’s staring at me with shock stamped all over his features. And for some strange reason that makes me feel really good.
I waggle my fingers in his direction as I pass by.
He doesn’t wave back. But he does finally manage to pick his jaw up off the floor.
Beckett is still seated in the pilot’s chair, facing the console like she wants to keep herself separate from the rest of us. But as we walk farther onto the bridge, she twirls the chair around and her eyes almost pop out of her head. I grin and saunter over, liking the feel of her eyes on me. A lot. And for once, they’re clear of pain—a double success, if you ask me.
I hand her the bag with the black jumpsuits. “Your new clothes,” I tell her.
She frowns. “When did you—”
“Kali bought them for you.”
She glances behind me—presumably at the princess—and her frown deepens. “I don’t think so.”
“Oh, come on—she picked the perfect color for you.” I nudge her playfully.
I can tell that Beckett wants to look inside the bag…badly. But the distrust festering in her eyes when she looks at Kali again seems to be winning out.
“Why don’t you go get changed? Won’t it be a relief to get out of that thing?”
“I…I guess.” She still seems a little shell-shocked. But she clutches the bag as she heads out of the room. “Don’t fuck with my ship,” she snarls at Ian on her way out the door.
“No promises,” he shoots back. But he makes no move toward her pilot’s chair, so I sit in it and twirl around a few times, feeling like I just won something significant. Again, I remember that I’m sitting in a pilot’s chair…on an alien artifact…flying through space. What even is this life?
The spinning makes my head swim, which isn’t a bad thing. But then someone grabs the back and stops me mid-twirl.
“Merrick,” I murmur, knowing who it is without even turning around. “Don’t you think I look…” I try to come up with a word.
He studies me with half-closed eyes. “Extremely secular? Yes, I do. Is that really what you want?”
“Don’t be a spoilsport, Merrick. My robe was wet and dirty and…white.” I squint up at him. “Anyway, you’re not wearing your robe anymore, either.”
“That was a little different,” he tells me.
“Was it?” I gently remove his hands from the chair and spin around again. “Why did I never notice before that you were so handsome, Merrick?”
He just frowns at me while he shakes his head. “I think you’ve had enough to drink.”
“Oh, no, I haven’t. Not nearly enough. I like gerjgin. When we get back to Serati, I’m going to ask Sister Grinor if we can have it in the monastery.”
His lips actually twitch. “I will look forward to that conversation.”
“And I’m hungry, Merrick. How am I hungry again?”
“There are cookies,” he tells me with a small smile. Apparently, his shock over the jumpsuit has faded.
“No! Really?”
I’m up and out of my seat in a flash. My sweet tooth is a well-known weakness, and Merrick often sneaks sweets into the monastery for me. I sniff out the cookies straightaway—not that it’s hard, as they’re sitting on the chair next to Max.
I don’t even ask if I can have one—I just help myself to a handful. Then sit on the floor with my back against the wall to eat them. Delicious.
“I like the new look,” Max tells me. He hands me another glass of gerjgin, and I swallow the whole lot before Merrick can confiscate it. No way am I giving up any cookies or any gerjgin if I can help it.
Max sits down on one side of me, while Gage sits on his other side. Ian and Kali sit across from us—after Ian snags the box of cookies. One more reason I like that guy.
“What’s with your friend?” Max asks, nodding toward Merrick, who is still standing. “He doesn’t look happy.”