CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Max’s dark head is bent over an object on the desk. I look over his shoulder and see that it’s an old-fashioned sort of clock, dismantled. He has a knack with machines that he doesn’t have with bows and arrows. Sometimes I think that in spite of all the bloodshed and betrayal littered across his past, he’s better at putting things together than he is at ripping them apart.
I watch the way he coils a copper wire around his thumb to keep it in place. Unexpectedly, I think of a lock of my coppery hair twined around his fingers that way.
Does Max want me to go?
I think he’d give almost anything for you to want to stay.
The memory keeps pushing itself to the forefront of my mind, filling me with guilt and hope and wanting every time. It’s as absurd as it is infuriating. Of all the people in all the worlds, why is he the one I want?
“Esmae, you were kind of in the middle of a sentence?”
“I was just saying I’m on my way out. I want to take Titania off Kali for a few hours. She doesn’t get to fly half as much as she wants to.”
“That’s a good idea. I’m sure she needs it.”
I hesitate. Then, for no fathomable reason whatsoever, I say, “Would you like to come with us?”
His eyes flash up to mine. He takes a minute to reply, and when he does, his voice is cautious. “Where are you planning to go?”
“I didn’t have anywhere specific in mind. You’re welcome to choose.”
He hesitates, then nods and follows me out the door.
Titania wants to know where to take us.
“I don’t know,” says Max. A grin crooks the corner of his mouth.
“How helpful,” she snipes.
“You’re missing the point,” I say, catching on. “You get to pick.”
“Me? Really?”
“Anywhere you like,” says Max.
“I’m going to show you something beautiful!” She bursts out of the shields so fast my head spins. We hurtle into open space. Once she’s steadied her pace, I unbuckle myself from my seat and sit down on the floor beside the wall of unbreakable glass. Vast stretches of galaxy twinkle beyond. I count the stars but quickly lose track.
Max comes closer. I study him for a moment and see stars and moon rocks in his eyes.
“I want Alexi to win this war.” It’s my voice, but I almost can’t believe I’ve said the words.
“I know.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
“I can see it in your face when people talk about him. I can see how badly you want your family to come home.”
I swallow. “How do you always see me exactly as I am?”
“I don’t know.” There’s a pause, and then he asks, “What made you decide to tell me?”
I wish there was an easy answer, but I don’t know why I said anything at all. “Why did you let me stay on Kali if you knew I want your enemy to win?”
“The alternative was to ask you to go, and that wasn’t the alternative I wanted.”
The moon rocks hurtle in and out of his eyes. I turn my head to the glass and watch a distant green nebula glowing bright against the void of space. Closing my eyes, I try to picture myself as an infant, surrounded by that void. Did I wail into the dark until my cries grew thin and tired? Did I lie quietly in my sealed boat entranced by the stars? Was I consumed by hurt and longing or was I captivated by the beauty? I don’t know. I don’t remember. Perhaps it was a little bit of both.
When Titania slows at last, I bolt to my feet; I know exactly where we are. The mass in front of us is uneven, wickedly jagged, gray-blue, cold, and almost translucent. It looks like an enormous piece of dark ice. And Titania is right. It is beautiful. Deep shadows cross its seas. A soft, haunting sound rises from the form and creeps into the ship, the eerie song of the hounds in the shadows.
“The Empty Moon,” I whisper.
Ruled by the god Kirrin, it’s one of those places mortals rarely go. Most would be too afraid. The seas are fathomless and terrifying. The creatures are deadly. Unlike the great beasts of Anga, born from the blood of the first raksha demons and typically peaceful, the creatures of the Empty Moon were bred by gods and they are supposedly without pity or mercy. The stories say there is a garuda that guards the palace; the hounds are as big as bears and will tear you apart if you fail their tests; the water beasts have three rows of teeth and tails as wickedly sharp as thorns.
Max’s hand isn’t quite steady as he reaches out and brushes the glass, like he wants to touch the Empty Moon. “Why are we here?” There’s an edge to his voice.
“It’s lovely to look at,” says Titania, “and it means something to you both. This where Esmae’s mother dove deep into the seas to find the blueflower.”
The blueflower jewel burns in my hair as she says it, as if it knows how close it is to home. I watch the Moon and try to envision the rare, beautiful blueflowers deep in its sea.
“And as for you,” Titania continues on, “You know what this place means to you. This is where you once—”
“Don’t.”
“You’ve been here before?” I ask.
He nods, his eyes fixed on the Empty Moon. I’ve never seen his face so completely raw. I can’t decide if the expression there is pain or longing. Both, perhaps. I reach for his hand, then realize what I’m doing and drop my own back to my side.
“I was here with my family once.”
“Weren’t you afraid?”
“Oh, we were safe.” He hesitates. “I was different then. I was better than I am now. Proud and brave. Too much of both, in fact.”
“You can’t have been so very different,” I say. “I see those things in you. Whoever the other you was, he’s still here.”
He looks at me, surprised. The intensity in his gaze makes me look away, but this time I do reach for his hand. He startles, like my touch has set fire to his skin, and stares at my hand in his for what feels like eternity. When our eyes meet again, I know—I know—what he’s about to do.
“Sometimes, I wonder if I’m still the same,” he says. His other hand slides to the back of my neck. My heart gives a jolt. He waits to see if I want him to stop, but I don’t. “Times like now. When I remember what it’s like to be brave.”
The kiss is just a touch at first. Then I let go of his hand and grip fistfuls of his shirt and it’s like an entire universe has been blown apart. He kisses me deeper and one hand coils in my hair like it coiled in the wires of the clock. I want his hands all over my skin. The kiss is fierce and bitter and full of wanting and it’s so very brief.
I don’t know who pulls away first. At first, I can’t quite think, and my body thrums with electricity, and then the disbelief hits.
How could I? After everything he’s done, how could I, how could I, how could I—
He sees it on my face and steps back at once. I think I see hurt before he schools his features into a perfectly blank mask.
“I’m sorry,” he says, “I shouldn’t have—”
I try to tell him he doesn’t have to be sorry, but no words come out, and I watch him retreat.
He steps away from the glass panel, away from the Empty Moon, away from me.
When he speaks again, it’s to Titania: “It’s time to go.”
And she throws us back into the stars and shadows of the galaxy.