The door clicks closed behind me. A clock on the wall tick, tick, ticks, echoing my time-bomb pulse. Charley is gone. I’m alone with someone who knows me so well, but he’s a stranger and maybe I never knew him at all.
Then, as if twenty thousand leagues of ocean have been lifted from his shoulders, Ky exhales. Drags a hand over his face. Pinches the bridge of his nose.
In the silence I take a moment to examine him. It isn’t only his demeanor, name, and voice that have changed. His hair is darker, shorter. Gone are the wavy highlights falling into his eyes. They’ve been cropped into a cleaner, more mature cut. His complexion is still pocked and scarred in places, but clearer than the last time I saw him. He bears a new scar as well, running from behind his left ear to the base of his neck.
The truth hits me like a runaway bus. Splat. Ky could be tattooed from head to toe, completely bald, or even missing all his teeth and I’d still be drawn to him.
Why?
Lowering his hand, he locks those two-tone eyes on mine.
I’m naked. Completely exposed. A mess, and he’s gazing at me like I’m a drink of water in summer. A cozy sweater in autumn. A first kiss in spring.
Then he’s moving, shedding his wintry manner in exchange for something achingly familiar. A relaxed grin reaches his eyes. This is too much. Ky acted as if he didn’t know me with Charley in the room, and now he’s reaching for me as if he’s found a lost treasure. He’s suddenly himself, and I’m not sure if I can handle being so close to him.
Joshua. I love Joshua. Joshua with his piercing blue eyes. Joshua who would do anything and everything to keep me from harm. Joshua who will flip a lid when he discovers I’m not in the castle, and here I am standing in a room with someone he considers his enemy.
I’m confusing obligation with affection. Ky carries the Void because of me and—
He pauses a foot away. No words. Just breaths, and my pulse quick, quick, quickens.
My train of thought switches tracks. “Finale B” from Rent takes over my mind’s rails.
“Only us.”
“Only this.”
“Forget . . .”
“Hi,” Ky says. It’s the most un-epic word in the English language. But then his smile deepens, double dimples forming.
And I’m melting. Hi, I mouth. I lift a hand to my throat and shake my head.
His lips press. His eyes see straight through mine. “I know. We’ll fix it.”
The ache inside lifts. I don’t know how or why, but I believe him. I fiddle with the rose-button necklace resting just above my T-shirt’s neckline.
His gaze lowers, lopsided grin reaching his eyes. And then . . . oh, then . . .
Ky’s arms are around me, enfolding me. His earthlike scent is oxygen. And I’m inhaling, my nose pressed into his shoulder.
At first my arms remain pinned at my sides. But Ky strokes my back, coaxing the tension away, and I relax. My arms slip through his, my hands reaching up and forward and finding comfort in fistfuls of sweater at his shoulders. I open my eyes for the briefest instant. When did I close them? I take one look at my grimy fingernails and try to pull away. I so need to bathe.
But he doesn’t release me. His nose nuzzles my hair, and this feels so wrong and so right on a hundred different levels. It’s just a hug. A greeting. I’m not betraying Joshua. I’m not.
“It’s going to be okay now.” He withdraws a few inches. His hands cup my face. “You’re here.” His eyes close, he leans in, so near I can taste his breath—
I lurch back, but the knife ripping my gut remains. Confusion pins me and I find it hard to breathe. I’m so turned on end, I don’t even know which way is up or where my heart resides.
He doesn’t bat an eye at my reaction though. He takes my hand and leads me to a leather armchair near the window. I sit. Then he’s across the cabin, crouching and opening a trunk. He withdraws jeans, a long-sleeved V-neck tee, a hoodie . . . No, not just any hoodie. My hoodie. The heather-gray one with “Music Is Life” screen-printed in cursive on the front. Those are my clothes, from my dresser, from my bedroom, from my brownstone. No wonder my drawers seemed barren. Ky had already been there. He knew I would come. He was prepared.
My hands are cold and fidgety. I tuck them beneath my thighs.
He returns to my side, places the fresh clothing on the chair’s wide arm. He looks at me and his gaze speaks volumes. How can so much be said without any words at all?
I run my fingertips over the hoodie’s fleece lining. Then I reach behind me, retrieve the compact with the letter. Draw out his socked knife.
His hands cover mine, pushing them to my lap. “I have so much to tell you.”
Rap, rap, rap.
He moves to stand beside his desk, rolls his shoulders.
Now that he’s not so near, I can think. Inhale. Exhale. I purse my lips, unsure how to process his words and actions. He was expecting me. The letter said he’d wait, but how could he be sure I’d come? Did he and Ebony plan this? When? Why? So many questions I’m unable to voice.
“Come in,” Ky calls, all business again.
The door swings inward and a younger, shorter, thinner, nonbald version of Kuna enters. His black hair drapes his face, stopping at his chin. He wears khaki shorts, a white tank, and flip-flops.
Is he not aware it’s the dead of winter?
The boy carries a round tray with a silver-domed lid. When his notice falls to me, he offers a curt nod.
“Thank you, Chief Cook Toshiro. That will be all.”
Another nod from the boy. “Yes, Captain.” He sets the tray on the drafting desk, taps the right side of his chest with one fist, and gives a shallow bow. Then he’s gone.
Returning, Ky kneels before me. He removes my sneakers. My socks. “I’m sure you must have a freight’s worth of questions.” He clears his throat. “I’m sorry about Kuna. And being separated from your mom. I know it’s been a difficult week for you.”
Tears well, spill, stain. I don’t have the energy to fight my emotions tonight. It’s too much. My throat burns and I long to sing my heart. To express myself through music. But I can’t. I mourn the loss like a death. So much tragedy. But . . . how does Ky know so much?
“To answer your questions, Warren was my mother’s father’s name. I chose an alias because it’s vital I remain discreet. No one can know who I am or where I come from. They’d connect it back to the Second and discover I’m a vessel of the Void. Hard to get people to trust you when you hold the darkest entity known to mankind within your soul. You, Ebony, and Khloe are the only others aboard the ship who know the truth.” His gaze locks on mine.
My pulse thrums in my ears. Upon hearing Khloe’s name, I feel relief swell. My other half sister is here. I need to see her.
“You will,” he says, reading my thoughts again. “But she’s fallen ill. Pneumonia. I won’t have you catching it and making your throat worse.”
My heart longs to meet her. But the feeling is quickly replaced with a surge of adrenaline.
Those eyes.
His touch lingers on my bare feet a few beats longer than necessary.
I bite my lower lip.
Rising, he crosses the cabin and sets a kettle on the kitchenette’s stove. Just like in the Second, the ship looks ancient but houses modern conveniences as well. I hope this means a hot shower is in my near future.
Ky turns a knob. Click, click, click. A burner lights. “The Callings are losing power. The Thresholds are draining.” He retrieves the tray from his desk, then comes over and sets it on my lap, lifts the lid.
Sigh. Steam rises from a bowl of white bean chili, warming my face.
“Why, Em? Why are those things happening?”
I hang my head. Because of me. Something is wrong with me.
“No,” he says. “That’s where you’re mistaken.”
I snap my head up. Eyebrows pinch. He . . . heard me?
“Yes. It’s real. Our connection. I can hear you. And you can hear me. You just don’t know it yet.”
But how? Why?
“I’ve been trying to figure that out myself.”
I retrieve the spoon resting on the tray, lower it into the bowl, and lift it to my lips. Mm. Cumin and cilantro. Potatoes and celery. Perfection.
“What have you learned of the origins of the Void and the Verity?”
Can you hear everything I think?
“Not everything. I’ve learned to tune in to the important things, though. And when you’re thinking of me? Well, that makes it a whole lot easier. And now that you’re near? It’s like the volume has been turned up.”
I stare into my bowl. How red is my face right now? Ever heard of privacy, Ky?
The kettle whistles. Ky smirks and pours hot water into a basin, carries it over, and sets it on the floor. He lifts my feet and sets them gently into the just-right water.
I wiggle my toes, release a spontaneous sigh. How did he know this is exactly what I need?
Kneeling, he rolls up his sleeves. Right. Left. The sight of the Void—the blackened veins—winding up his arm steals my breath despite the fact it’s not a surprise. My own arm throbs. Could it be connected to his pain? He’s like this because of me. He could’ve been free of the Void. Instead he took it on. Again.
This is his secret. Our secret. Does he know he once held the Verity? Is he aware he shared it with Joshua?
“I am. But only because of you.”
Seriously, stop. I don’t know whether it’s good or bad you can hear my thoughts.
“It’s good, Em.” His crooked smile makes a candid appearance. “It’s very, very good.”
I drop my spoon into the bowl, and broth splashes onto the tray. Crud. I’ll have to watch what I think from now on.
“Don’t be embarrassed.” His cupped hands dip into the water. “I’m a part of you now. And you’re a part of me. It took me a bit to get the hang of reading your mind, and then soon after, speaking to you through thought. It seems you hear me when I think a thought toward you, and I’m betting with focus you can block me, as well as learn to hear me whenever you please. It’s just a theory, though. I need to do more research.” Excitement fills his tone. He almost sounds like a little kid. He strokes my feet. My ankles. My toes.
I look down and for the first time I realize what he’s doing. My throat constricts and my lip quivers. I clamp my teeth to restrain the brewing emotion. Then I watch as he tenderly, selflessly washes and massages my dirty, aching feet.
My heart twists. My throat constricts once more.
This is why the Void entered him. The reason it inhabited Ky instead of Joshua. I still don’t understand it.
His hands stop moving. He looks up. Brows draw a V. “David didn’t tell you?”
Tell me what?
The expression on his face turns from smooth to sour. “The—” His hands fist beneath the water. “I can’t believe he didn’t tell you.” Then he shakes his head. “Typical.”
I touch his arm.
“David and I share the Void, just as we shared the Verity.”
Ky rises.
“It split.”
Water drip, drip, drips from his knuckles to the floor.
He inhales and says, “The Void—it entered us both.”