Across a Star-Swept Sea (46 page)

“Sea mink,” she corrected.

He smiled. “Sea mink.” He kept coming toward her and she scooted over to make room. Was she supposed to apologize for acting like an idiot … twice? Was he supposed to apologize for creating a torture device? What was going to happen now?

The sky was coral and pink and a brilliant, brilliant blue. It was going to be another gorgeous day in New Pacifica, but Persis wrapped her cloak more tightly around her body and shivered in the sea breeze. Justen was still wearing the black Galatean military uniform he’d used to sneak into the lab, though the gray flakes were almost completely gone from his hair.

“So …” he began quietly.

“So,” she said. “Do you think that Tomorrow will help you with your DAR research? I’m sure her experiences have given her a real fright, but if we have a little patience, we’ll be able to convince her that we mean her no harm. And your models show that her genetics might be promising, right?” She was babbling. Even flaky Persis never babbled.

“Maybe,” he said. “But I … don’t want to talk about work right now.”

“Really?” she asked, skeptical. “That’s a new one for you. For as long as I’ve known you, it’s the only thing you wanted to talk about. Your precious research and your beautiful revolution, and how it’s all so very, very important—”

“It is important,” he broke in. “And it’ll be there when we get to Albion. We’re going to fix the refugees, and we’re going to protect the Galateans and their revolution, and somewhere in the middle of all that, I’m going to get back to my research. And I’m not going to rest until I find a way to help your mother and everyone like her. I promise you, Persis.”

She swallowed heavily, then turned from him and took a deep draft from her supplement to calm her nerves. It was very sugary, though, so it did nothing of the sort. Instead, her heart pounded so hard she thought she might bruise.
He promised
. He promised he would save her. And, like always, she wanted to believe him.

“That’s what I’m going to do,” he said softly, very near her ear. “What are
you
doing?”

She turned back. When had he gotten so close? They were face-to-face on the deck, inches from each other. “What do you mean?”

“Come on,” he said, teasing. “We both know you’re not going to be the Wild Poppy anymore, and with my sister safely with me—”

“Your sister,” she pointed out, “can take care of herself.”

“So I see.” He frowned. “That’s something else we can talk about … later, the advisability of recruiting my little sister for your spy ring.”

“Don’t underestimate her.”

“Don’t change the subject,” he replied. “Remy will be safe with me from now on, and Isla is going to be a huge hero after she reveals how we’ve saved the regs
and
the aristos of Galatea, so it’s not like she needs our help with her public image.”

“True.” Part of her wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. His eyes never left her face, and there was something in his gaze, something dark and unexpected that made her catch her breath. “I suppose I’ll go back to school. I know it’ll make my father happy.”

“The Wild Poppy taking classes in history when she’s used to making it?” Justen considered this, a small smile playing about his mouth. “It would be entertaining, at least.”

“Don’t act so superior,” she said. “I think I know some medic who isn’t quite
officially
finished with his studies, either. Without your uncle Damos getting all nepotistic, you’re going to have to finish school, too.”

“True,” he echoed. “But what I’m asking is, since all the reasons for having a fake relationship have evaporated, does that mean we don’t have to pretend to be in love anymore?”

“That’s what it means,” she said with a brusque nod.

“Good.”

“Yes,” she managed, though her throat was choking on the words. He was standing so close. She tried to back up a step, and he caught her by the hand. His thumb traced the outline of her wristlock, then slipped inside to rest against the golden disk.

She hadn’t yet finished the supplement, but every nerve in her palm buzzed to life.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, though, smart as she was, she already knew.

“It’s good,” Justen added, as he cupped her face in his other hand and tangled his fingers in her hair, “because, Persis Blake, the next time I kiss you, I want you to know it’s for real.”

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