As they should.
The embassy is decorated as most Hyperborean spaces are: white and sterile, with exceptionally dim, cool lights. The Boreans themselves are nocturnal, and able to see in complete darkness; thus, they rarely bother with color. Instead, they’re interested in unusual shapes in their architecture. The ceilings ripple rather than arch in the Merati fashion, curving into the walls as if we’re in some kind of natural cave.
Fiona doesn’t balk, throwing her shoulders back. Still, she levels with my stride to glance up at me.
“It just occurred to me that I don’t think I’ve ever met a Borean,” she says. “What are they like?”
“A little late to ask now,” I murmur.
She scoffs. “Alright, but tell me—anything I should be prepared for?”
“Hm…” I consider what I could tell her, but it’s hard to conceive of when all in the Alpha Worlds know of this apex species. “They’re soft-spoken, and they like the dark,” I finally say. “I would try not to raise your voice at risk of offending their sense of propriety. Otherwise, their courtly rules are far more lax than the Merati.”
“So why is everyone so afraid of them?” she asks.
“Because they’re heartless,” I say. “Whereas the Merati are so passionate that they have to tightly control their society, the Hyperboreans are interested in only one thing.”
“And what’s that?” she asks.
I narrow my eyes. “Elixir.”
CHAPTER TEN
NEREUS
I don’t like staying here.
I don’t like leaving Fiona with the Mlok, negotiating with some of the most powerful beings in the galaxy. I trust that Orion would kill for her—if I didn’t, I would have tried harder to talk her out of this—but I also know that Hyperboreans are difficult at the best of times.
This is not the best of times.
So I get why we have to stay here, why we have to be Fiona’s escape plan. If negotiations don’t go well, we need to get out of Hyperborean space as soon as possible.
And I’m learning to fight, yes, but I’m still useless in battle…it’s better for me to stay here.
I hate feeling helpless.
After Fiona gave clear instructions to Taln and Ryker to watch me—as if they were my babysitters, and not my guards—I’ve spent the last few minutes in the cockpit, sitting in silence next to Kye.He’s not interfacing with the ship right now, and he looks exhausted. There are dark shadows under his eyes. I notice them when he looks up at the ceiling of the cockpit, which is completely colorless. My gaze follows his, until it lands on a tiny imperfection in the otherwise smooth ceiling.
“What are you looking at?” I ask.
“I’m not sure,” he says. “Still getting familiar with this ship, so I’m trying to figure out what’s supposed to be there and what isn’t.”
“I don’t think that needs fixing.”
He nods. “I think you’re right, Ner,” he says. “Still. Old habits.”
I watch him. Most of the time, when he’s focused like this, I love looking at him. There’s something about the way he hardens his jaw when he’s thinking, and the slight purse of his lips as he knits his brows together. But the concern written on his face reads more like exhaustion than frustration and my impulse is to wrap my arms around him and press kisses into his lips until he feels better.
Until the only thing he’s thinking about is kissing me.
And most of the time, I would do that. Most of the time, that would be the only thing that mattered. But Kye being quiet and withdrawn, when he’s usually so snarky and outspoken, isn’t just disorienting. It’sfrightening.
“You’re worried,” I say. I lean against the dashboard, looking at him as he continues to stare at the ceiling. It’s a guess, but it seems right. We’re all worried.
He nods, tilting his head to look down at me. “Yes, I’m worried,” he says. “Aren’t you?”
“Yes, but I trust her. She’s doing her best.”