Cress massaged her neck, attempting to get her thoughts to stop spinning. When she was in the middle of a hack, it tended to fill up her brain until her vision hummed with coding and mathematics, skipping ahead to each necessary task faster than she could complete them. It tended to leave her in a state of drained euphoria.
But for now, at least, the Rampion was safe.
She turned her attention to a yellow light at the base of the screen that had been annoying her since she’d begun, but that she’d been too preoccupied to deal with. As expected, when she prompted the ejection, a small shimmering D-COMM chip popped out from the screen.
The match to the chip that Sybil had taken from her satellite, cutting off any hope that Cress and Thorne had of contacting their friends.
Friends.
She squinted at the chip as she held it up, wondering if that was the right word. It felt like having friends, especially after they’d survived the mission together. But then, she didn’t have anything to compare this friendship to.
One thing she knew for sure, though, was that she no longer needed to be rescued.
She looked around for something she could use to destroy the chip, and caught the ghost of a reflection in the cockpit window. Thorne stood in the doorway behind her, hands tucked into his pockets.
She gasped and spun to face him, her full skirt twisting around the chair’s base. Though it was dirty and torn in places, she hadn’t had the time to change yet, and wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to. The gown made her feel like she was still living in a drama, and was perhaps keeping her from going into shock at all that had happened that day. “You scared me!”
Thorne flashed a moderately embarrassed grin. “Sorry?”
“How long have you been standing there?”
He shrugged. “I was listening to you work. It’s kind of relaxing. And I like it when you sing.”
She flushed. She didn’t realize she’d been singing.
Feeling his way forward, Thorne took the copilot’s seat, setting the cane across his lap and kicking his boots up on the dash. “Are we invisible again?”
“To radars, for now.” She tucked some hair behind her ear. “Could I see your cane?”
He raised an eyebrow, but handed it to her without question. Cress dropped the D-COMM chip to the ground and crushed it beneath the cane’s tip. A shiver of empowerment ran through her.
“What was that?” Thorne asked.
“The D-COMM chip you used to contact me before. We won’t be needing it again.”
“Seems like that was ages ago.” Thorne ran his finger along the blindfold. “I’m sorry that you didn’t get to see much of Earth while we were down there. And now you’re stuck up here again.”
“I’m happy to be stuck up here.” She twirled the cane absently between her palms. “It’s a great ship. Far more spacious than the satellite. And … much better company.”
“I can’t argue with that.” Grinning, Thorne pulled a small bottle from his pocket. “I came in here to ask if you would help me with this. These are the mystical eyedrops the doctor made. We’re supposed to put three to four drops in each eye, twice a day … or was it two drops, three times?… I don’t remember. He wrote down the instructions on the portscreen.” Thorne unclipped the port from his belt and handed it to her.
Cress propped the cane against the panel of instruments. “He was probably worried you’d forget, after such a high-stress…” She trailed off, her eye catching on the portscreen text.
Thorne cocked his head. “What’s wrong?”
The port had opened to a screen containing instructions for the eyedrops, and also a detailed account of why Dr. Erland believed the plague was a manufactured weapon being used as biological warfare.
But at the top of all that …
“There’s a tab labeled with my name.” Not Cress. Crescent Moon Darnel.
“Oh. It was the doctor’s port.”
Cress’s fingers glided over the screen, and she’d opened the tab before her mind could decide whether it wanted to know what was in it or not.
“A DNA analysis,” she said, “and … a paternity confirmation.” Standing, she set the port on the control panel. “Let’s do your eyedrops.”
“Cress.” He reached for her, his fingers gathering up the folds of her skirt. “Are you all right?”
“Not really.” She looked down at him. Thorne had pulled the blindfold around his neck, revealing a faint tan line around his eyes. Gulping, Cress sank into the pilot’s chair again. “I should have told him I loved him. He was dying, and he was right there, and I knew I would never see him again. But I couldn’t say it. Am I horrible?”
“Of course not. He may have been your biological father, but you still barely knew him. How could you have loved him?”
“Does it matter? He said he loved me. He was dying, and now he’s gone, and I’ll never…”
“Cress, hey, stop it.” Thorne swiveled his chair to face her. He found her wrists, before sliding his hands down to intertwine with her fingers. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It all happened so fast, and there was nothing you could do.”
She bit her lip. “He took my blood sample that first day, in Farafrah.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “He knew all this time—almost a whole week. Why didn’t he tell me sooner?”
“He probably wanted to wait for the right time. He didn’t know he was going to die.”
“He knew there was a chance we were all going to die.” Her next breath shook inside her diaphragm, and as the tears started, she felt herself being pulled toward Thorne. He drew her into his lap, scooping one arm beneath her legs to keep the enormous skirt from tangling around her. Sobbing, Cress buried her face against his chest and let the tears come. She cried hard at first, the release pouring out of her all at once. But she almost felt guilty when, minutes later, the tears already started to dry up. Her sadness wasn’t enough. Her mourning wasn’t enough. But it was all she had.
Thorne held her until the sound of his heartbeat became louder than the sound of her crying. He smoothed her hair back from her face, and though it was selfish, Cress was glad that he couldn’t see her then, with her red face and puffy eyes and all the unladylike fluids she’d left on his shirt.
“Listen, Cress,” he murmured against her hair once her breaths were almost stable. “I’m not an expert by any means, but I know you didn’t do anything wrong today. You shouldn’t tell someone you love them unless you mean it.”
She sniffed. “But I thought you said you’ve told lots of girls that you loved them.”
“Which is exactly why I’m not an expert. Thing is, I didn’t love any of them. I’m honestly not sure I would recognize real love if it was…”
She swiped the back of her hand over her damp cheeks. “If it was what?”
“Nothing.” Clearing his throat, Thorne leaned his head against the back of the chair. “Are you all right?”
Sniffing again, she nodded. “I think so. I might still be in a little bit of shock.”
“I think we all are, after today.”
Cress spotted the bottle of the eyedropper solution, beside the doctor’s portscreen. She didn’t want to pry herself away from Thorne’s arms, but she also didn’t want to think about the doctor anymore. The secret he’d kept. The words she couldn’t say. “We should probably take care of these eyedrops.”
“When you’re done shaking,” Thorne said. “I don’t like shaking things near my eyes.”
She laughed weakly and went to pull herself from his lap. Thorne’s arms tightened, but only for a moment before he let her go. She forced her guilt back inside. She wouldn’t think about it right now.
After reading the doctor’s instructions—three drops in each eye, four times a day for one week—she unscrewed the top. Drawing the solution up into the dropper, she moved to stand behind Thorne’s chair, her wrinkled gown swaying around her.
Thorne propped his feet on the control panel again and tilted back until his face was turned up to the ceiling. She hadn’t seen his eyes in days, but they were as blue as ever.
Cress placed a hand on his brow to steady herself and his cheek twitched. “Here goes,” she murmured, squeezing the dropper. He instinctively flinched and blinked, pushing the drops like tears down his temples. Cress brushed them away, unable to resist smoothing a strand of hair off his forehead. Her attention caught on his lips, and suddenly self-conscious, she pulled her fingertips away. “How does that feel?”
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “Like I have water in my eyes.” Then he chuckled wryly, opening them again. “Maybe the solution is just water, and the doctor was playing a practical joke on me.”
“That would be awful!” she said, twisting the cap back onto the solution. “He wouldn’t have done that.”
“No, you’re right. Not after what we went through to get it.” He lifted his head from the back of the chair, tugging at the bandanna knotted around his neck. “Though he did make it pretty clear that he didn’t think too highly of me.”
“If that’s true, it’s only because he didn’t know you well enough yet.”
“True. I would have charmed him eventually.”
She smiled. “Of course you would have, in addition to showing him your many other fine qualities,” she said, blushing as she set a reminder on the portscreen to go off four times a day. But when she looked at Thorne again, his expression had become serious. “Captain?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. Sitting up straighter, Thorne rubbed his palms together. “I have to tell you something.”
“Oh?” Hope skittered through her veins as she claimed the pilot’s seat again. The luxurious dress poufed around her.
The rooftop. The kiss.
Had he realized how much he loved her?
“What is it?”
Thorne pulled his feet off the control panel. “Remember when we were in the desert … and I said I didn’t want to hurt you? Because you were wrong about me?”
She knotted her fingers together. “When you tried to deny how much of a hero you really are?” She tried to put a hint of teasing into the statement, but her nerves were so jittery it came out as more of a frightened squeak.
“A hero. Exactly.” Thorne rubbed a finger between the blindfold and his throat, loosening it. “Here’s the thing. That girl that I stood up for when those jerks took her portscreen?”
“Kate Fallow.”
“Right, Kate Fallow. Well, she was really good at math. And, at the time, I was failing.”
The anticipation fluttering through her body turned to ice. Wait—was this his confession? Something to do with … Kate Fallow?
He cleared his throat when she didn’t say anything. “I lost the fight and all, but she still let me copy her homework for a month. That’s why I did it. Not out of a misplaced desire to be heroic.”
“But you said you had a crush on her.”
“Cress.” He smiled, but it looked strained. “I had a crush on every girl. Believe me, it wasn’t a big motivator.”
She squeezed back against the chair and pulled her knees to her chest. “Why are you telling me this now?”
“I couldn’t before. You were so certain that I was this other person, and I kind of liked that you saw me differently than anyone else. Part of me kept thinking that maybe you’ve been right all along, and it’s everyone else who’s been wrong about me. That even I’ve been wrong about me.” He shrugged. “But even that was just my ego talking, wasn’t it? And you deserve to know the truth.”