Chapter 5

I just can’t staymad at him. Even when I want to, it never works. I’ve got my feet propped up on one of the squishy ottomans scattered between the two low couches and the side chairs in the crew lounge. Sohven’s leaning forward, chest pressed against the back of an armless chair set up backwards, leaving plenty of room for his wings to fold and drape behind him. It’s a good thing most of the furniture here is made of durable material. The poor chair looks like it could snap like kindling beneath the weight of his imposing frame.

The lounge is an odd mishmash of styles. I can identify S’ahveki’s influence pretty easily—he likes the old-fashioned Earth aesthetic, with faux leather and rich, warm colors. The art on the walls is luxury enough, but some of the pieces are actual paintings and drawings from the dark eras, not just still screens with pretty frames. The biggest of them all is one with the name of our ship, The Medway Queen. It’s a depiction of an odd looking boat, but I don’t know the whole story.

Whatever else you want to say about the man, S’ahveki’s got secrets. No one just has those kind of pieces lying around to use as spaceship decor unless they’re fucking loaded. When it comes down to it, I still don’t know much about the man I tried to save during my last Federation sanctioned mission, but I know I trust him.

Dan is raking a long-toothed comb through his pelt, smoothing down the fluffier fur that covers his chest. He hums, or more like grunts, since Soovil don’t have a very refined sense of melody. He’s leaning back against a stretch of wall that doesn’t match the rest, a decidedly jarring explosion of neon colors and dancing lights.

The game wall has kept us occupied through many of the slow times between missions. Vanna makes sure it’s always updated with the latest entertainment options. Speaking of our Nallioth pilot, Vanna enters the lounge and takes a seat on the couch across from me. Her long, slender tail flicks against her ankles as she stares.

“Yes?” I ask.

“I heard everything went well down on Vattla. Welcome back for real this time, Cesari.”

I don’t have a tail, so I can’t express my appreciation of that sentiment the Nallioth way, but I lift my hand to give her the human version of that gesture. Sohven rumbles disapprovingly in the background, but Vanna just grins.

“So, where are we headed now?” I ask.

That long tail snaps and wraps around her lower leg. I frown slightly. That’s one of Vanna’s tells. Whatever she has to say isn’t going to be good news.

“Back towards Evatat-5.”

I wrinkle my nose like I’m already trying to keep myself from inhaling the rancid fumes that permeate the lower decks there.

Dan growls, an honest to goodness rumble that would scare the socks off me if I didn’t know him so well. “We just left from there. What business does S’ahveki have for us on Evatat-5?”

“I’m guessing he’ll tell us soon enough,” she says before she tips her head toward the beverage counter. “Fetch me something to drink?”

The hair Dan spent all that time smoothing down lifts up away from his skin, clearly displaying his irritation, but he still heads over to the other side of the room.

“Bring me back something, too,” I call before I flash Vanna a conspiratorial grin.

Dan, wonderful soul that he is, is handing me a suspiciously vibrant purple drink when Pavok and Haruk join us with S’ahveki close on their heels. Looks like the gang’s all here. They settle into the various open spots left among the chairs and couches, making themselves comfortable. I nod at Pavok when he takes a seat beside me, and I repress the urge to smile. I must not have scandalized him too badly this morning in the hall if he’s willing to come so close.

Any thought of grinning vanishes when he gives me that familiar look—the doctor’s assessing gaze, the one that ensures I can’t forget he’s viewing me as a patient, as a problem in need of solving.

“Before you ask, I’m fine, and that’s the truth. The mission was good, it felt great to be in the pilot’s seat, and I didn’t have any flashbacks.” I speak quickly to get it over with. I’m ready for a new topic—my mental fragility has been a stale theme for a few weeks now.

“Well, you know where to find me if that changes, but I’m glad to hear it,” Pavok says and then scratches behind his ear. “I was actually going to ask what you were planning to make for the Lunar New Year celebration. It’s the year of the tiger.”

I lean back and let my feet slip forward, settling deeper into the couch. “Beans, maybe lentils. You get soup from me, sorry.”

Pavok’s lips curl, and the faintest shudder ripples across his shoulders. “At least Dan always makes a good longevity noodle dish.”

“Legumes are good for you. You’re the doctor. Shouldn’t you be encouraging us to eat more of them?” I ask. I can feel Sohven’s gaze resting heavy on my face, but I resist its pull and don’t look over. “What about you, Vanna? What are you going to make?”

Her tail flicks as she sits up straighter, warming to the topic, but I only half hear her words. She has a soothing voice, and the rise and fall of it is comforting, like the ebb and flow of water. I’m content to let her talk, but I can’t make myself truly listen.

The lounge is humming now, or maybe whatever Dan brought me packed more of a punch than I anticipated. Now Haruk and Vanna are messing around with the game wall, and Sohven is eating—a bit violently, I might add, really tearing a hunk of seared meat up with his teeth, but the rest of my crewmates are chatting away, voices bouncing around in the familiar room. I reach for my head as the noise grows so loud it starts to feel claustrophobic. My hands miss, and I’m so unbalanced I feel like I might tumble down head-first between my legs, even though my ass is still firmly planted on the couch.

“Cesari!”

I shake my head and blink up at S’ahveki with a weak smile. “Yes?”

He gives me a hint of his teeth, but doesn’t full-on scowl. “Check his vitals, Pavok,” he orders.

Before I can get a word in edgewise, our medic slaps a diagnostic patch over my chest. “Hold still. It’ll only take a few seconds.” Pavok frowns, dark eyebrows drawing together as he scans the readout hovering above the device. “Tail of a vullakai,” he swears in an unholy hybrid of a growl and a whisper. He’s patting his legs, feeling at his pockets, and then he hops to his feet. His wild-eyed gaze falls on Sohven. “Get him to the infirmary—now.”

“I…”

Apparently I can”t form a complete sentence or stand quite as well as I thought I could. My lips don’t seem to move the way they should, and my knees might as well be made of rubber with the way they bend and go limp beneath me when I attempt to stand.

Sohven appears in a blur of gray skin, the resonant, aching vowels of his language deeper than whatever words the translator tries to feed me. I have time to wish I could smile at him before my eyelids grow too heavy and fall closed. I’m in his arms. Somehow, come what may, I always end up right there in the end, right where he tells me I belong.

“Dan poisoned him?”

I’d know that voice anywhere.

“Sohven?” I croak as I take stock of all my body parts, tensing a muscle here and another there to check whether or not I seem to be in working order.

“Ah, there you are, Cesari,” says Pavok with his characteristic gruffness. “I’m almost certain he didn’t intend to poison Jace. Most likely it was just an oversight on his part—to be fair, not all humans have that type of reaction to the toxin in jivyul. Cesari’s just lucky like that,” he adds. From the way his voice grows louder, I infer he’s turned back towards me. I don’t need to open my eyes to know Sohven won’t find Pavok’s explanation satisfactory.

“Easy there, big guy,” I say as I push myself up onto my elbows and take a look around me.

As expected, I’m in the medical unit—again—and Sohven’s wings are doing their agitated snap and flutter dance as he looms over me like an angry gargoyle. Not that anyone has experienced such a sight first-hand in recent memory, but I have a lively imagination. It’s always been one of my strengths. At least I’m telling myself so.

“Easy?” Sohven stops himself from saying more and turns his upper body towards Pavok. “I’d like to speak with Jace alone,” he says, and surprisingly, Pavok leaves without any fuss. I kind of wish he’d objected, because when Sohven looks at me again, I’m facing the full brunt of all of his bottled up frustration.

“Dan would never hurt me on purpose.” I know it, and he knows it too if he’ll give himself a few seconds to think it through. “This is one of the reasons Pavok is part of the crew. Accidents happen, but I’m fine now, aren’t I? Did he inform you of any long term side effects, or am I good?”

I probably should’ve asked that question while our medic was still in the room, but I’m hoping I guessed right and I won’t soon be listening to an unexpectedly dire prognosis.

Sohven grunts. His head tips down towards his chest, and his curved horns gleam as the light catches the motion. So, so pretty. That jivyul packed a punch all right. I’m a little disappointed I’m allergic to the stuff. I was feeling good there in the lounge before it knocked me out.

“We’re getting off this ship,” Sohven says as he tosses his horns back and stares me down, daring me to contradict him.

“Okay,” I say instead, offering him a soft grin. “Where to, mister?”

I wasn’t expecting an immediate answer, but the way his entire body stiffens and his pupils blow sets me on edge. He’s silent too long for comfort, but just when I’m about to say something to break the tension, he speaks.

“You can say no.” His fingers curl in towards his palms, and his fists tighten. “You can always say no,” he repeats, looking straight at me again. “I want to take you home to Lohnyal, to the eyrie where I was born.”

Now it’s my turn to stretch the silence.

“Is that even possible? I thought Lohnyal was a closed planet,” I finally say.

He does this thing where the little bit of cartilage he has on his ears points back away from his face and his thin lips flatten. There’s something he really doesn’t want to tell me.

“For the most part, yes, but there are some exceptions.”

I wait patiently for him to elaborate. “Such as…”

He rumbles something too low for me to pick up, turning his face away to make it even less comprehensible.

“What’s that now?” I prod.

“Mates,” he mumbles. “Mates may be allowed entry.”

Now I’m the one struck speechless. “Aren’t we…I mean, you’re Sohven and I’m Jhevase. What’s the big deal? What are you worried about?”

He attempts pacing, but the room is too small to truly allow it. His wings lift and fold as he tries to make it work.

“There’s a festival. All this talk of the human Lunar New Year reminded me.” He stops speaking and turns, takes one and a half abbreviated strides, and turns again. “It’s a fertility festival. A time when the mating bonds are celebrated.” He goes uncomfortably still and zeroes that black and green gaze in on me. “I’d like to join with you there.”

That same panicky cocktail of hormones starts rushing through me as when he mentioned us sharing a cabin, but it has a few new elements mixed in this time—desire, anticipation, and a rough-edged serving of awe. Unless I read him wrong, I think Sohven wants to marry me.