Shadow Call

by Michael Miller

  “You yourself just conceded that you aren’t ready for this responsibility,” Father said slowly, “and yet you refuse my solution. What exactly are you proposing?”

  “If I need help, there is one person who has trained for this from birth—if no longer to rule, then to advise me as I rule, from behind the throne. His failures will be hidden in my shadow, and his strengths will become mine. We need to go to Alaxak.” My voice didn’t waver now. “That will be my Flight. And”—I swallowed—“I promise I’ll complete the Rendering afterward.”

  Father only had to see Nev again and he would understand. No doubt he believed Nev to be an unforgivable traitor. But perhaps not before he would at least try to treat with him. Try to see him differently, despite his past behavior—the same courtesy he refused to extend to me.

  When he met Mother’s eyes across the ballroom, I knew then that he would do it. Mother missed Nev. Underneath all her layers of prim and proper, she was completely sentimental at heart. Father missed him too, but the difference was that she’d admit it.

  The music swelled. Despite losing Heathran for the moment, the night was indeed mine.

  I was home. Not only was I in my captain’s quarters on the Kaitan, but the ship was docked on Alaxak, in my village harbor, Gamut. I stretched on the furs of my bunk, still drowsy from my afternoon nap after a furious Shadow-fishing schedule had kept us up all night. I wasn’t ready to be awake, but a knock at the door sent me sitting up.

  “Hey?” I answered.

  I knew who it would be before I heard his voice. “It’s me.”

  “Hi,” I said as Nev entered without waiting.

  Ancestors, but the sight of him still took my breath away, even with how easily he slipped in that door these days, even with the scraggly beard he now wore as a partial disguise against casual observers. The startling silver-gray eyes, so bright they nearly glowed, the sculpted face, the perfect waves of light brown hair my fingers itched to touch. The fact that all these features came from very particular bloodlines didn’t seem to bother me anymore. Not much, anyway.

  I stood up as he entered, and before I knew what was happening, his arms were around me, and he was crushing me to his chest.

  Whoa. I still wasn’t used to this. And, Great Collapse, he was strong.

  “I missed you,” he breathed into my hair.

  I let out a strangled laugh. “You saw me all day—er, night. And you’re also squeezing the air from my lungs.”

  “Sorry.” He loosened his hold but didn’t let me go, perching his chin on the top of my head. “And I was around you. It’s not the same.”

  “Well, we can’t exactly be doing this in the middle of a Shadow run. We might as well fly straight into a star.”

  Nev’s arms slipped away from me. Maybe he’d sensed my stiffness. I didn’t mind his presence here—in fact, part of me wanted it to be a more permanent arrangement. But the tension from the previous run was still too fresh in my mind.

  Instead of talking about any of that, he said, “Come out with me.”

  I blinked at him. “Where?”

  “There’s a bonfire on the beach tonight.” He playfully tugged my arm toward the door. “You know, you led me to believe this place was dreadfully boring—and I thought it was too, when I was here by myself. But I now know that I was just never invited to where the real fun was.”

  I sighed. “I don’t go to these things often myself. I mean, I’m invited, but…”

  Not many people wanted me around. Everyone knew what happened to people in my family. It happened to other families too, even on other planets near concentrations of Shadow, but my family was one of the oldest on Alaxak, our Shadow grounds the biggest. Now only Arjan and I were left of the Uvgamuts. We were like missiles ready to explode.

  Not so fun at parties.

  That didn’t stop Nev. “All the more reason for you to come,” he said.

  Somehow, I let him drag me out the door and off the ship. “Wait, the rest of your disguise,” I said as we headed down the ramp that stretched to the dock.

  His new beard wasn’t enough to mask him, though it helped. He paused to slip in the flat brown contacts and bite down on a capsule, both of which he always carried with him now. His features altered in seconds, almost like they were shifting slightly on his face, and then we were good to go.

  The walk down to the beach was freezing, crystalline, stunning. I’d seen it many times, but alongside Nev, an outsider, I viewed it with new eyes. The night sky was black velvet glittering with gems, with a sash of shimmering, colorful light across the expanse—the far-off molecular clouds. The two moons shone like spotlights. Our breath fogged the air as we stared up at it all, walking hand in hand and trying not to trip over rocks, chunks of ice, or driftwood on the path from the dock down to the beach. Gamut itself was a collection of softly glowing orbs beyond the shore, as were the lights of various starships along the dock.

  The ocean was a humming whoosh in our ears, and for a second, I didn’t know if I’d ever been anywhere more perfectly beautiful. In that moment, I forgot everything that was bothering me.

  Until Nev finally brought it up.

  “I know today—last night—was difficult. I know the crew hasn’t entirely accepted me, especially Arjan, and since he’s your brother, you might find that particularly troubling.” He spoke quickly, as if to get it all out before I could stop him—deny it, even though there was nothing to deny. He and Arjan had been at each other’s throats the entire run. “But we can do this,” Nev finished.

  This. That little word held so much. And I got the feeling that Nev had intended it to. What was this? Nev, living and working on my ship, my planet? The two of us together, not just as captain and crew, but as something more? Building a future we could both share, despite coming from completely different places?

  I wasn’t even quite sure what that future would look like. I didn’t know if I could share the responsibilities of captaining the Kaitan with Nev, or if he could give up all remnants of his old life to accept them. Even if we could, would we make our union more official? I’d never let myself consider something like marriage before. I never thought I’d live long enough.

  I still didn’t know if I would, but for some reason, the threat of death was no longer enough to keep me from toying with the possibilities.

  “I didn’t bring you out here to talk about that, though,” he said, helping me over a particularly large driftwood log, pale as bone in the night. No one usually helped me step over things; he only got away with it because he was holding my hand. Still, I somehow liked it. Which meant my brain was definitely turning into a puddle of sickly sweet goop.

  “So what do you want to talk about?”

  “Anything. We haven’t had much time for simple conversation with so much outside interference.” As if our coping with his exile and fishing for Shadow were only outside interference—but in the darkness, I caught Nev’s grin, which let me know he was joking. “Why, Miss Uvgamut, courtship usually involves getting to know one another, flirtatious banter, flattery, starlit walks…”

  I tried to suppress my own grin. “Is that what this is—courtship?” Nev looked at me so seriously for a moment that my cheeks grew warmer than should have been possible out here. I went on quickly. “Well, whoever wrote your courtship manuals probably didn’t plan for it to be below freezing. Or for giant logs and pebble beaches in place of crystal floors and hand-tailored gowns,” I teased, as he struggled up onto another log that was waist-high. The bonfire winked at us in the distance from beyond it.

  “Oh, I don’t think any Dracorvan courtship manual would have covered someone like you. You’re one of a kind, I’m afraid.” He stuck his hand down for me, but I ignored it and vaulted up onto the log instead.

  “Is this the flattery part of the flirtatious banter?”

  Nev laughe
d loudly, his unrestrained amusement ringing all around us, and I realized I loved that sound.

  His hands slid along my arms, top to bottom. It didn’t matter that I was buried in layers of fur-lined leather; his touch made me shiver. “I can’t believe I ever thought flattery would work on you,” he said. “Remember when we first met? You told me if I sucked up any harder, you’d think you were in a vacuum.”

  Now I couldn’t keep from grinning. “Who knows, maybe it did work.”

  “Should I try again, then?” He cleared his throat theatrically and swept his hand to his heart. “You fly a ship better than a Bladeguard wields a Disruption Blade, and you lead your crew like a seasoned general—”

  My own laugh rang out now. “Ancestors, no. Stop!”

  “So then let’s get to know each other instead.”

  I looked away as his eyes grew more intense again. Unlike him, I didn’t magically have the right words for these types of situations. “Nev, I think it’s safe to say we know each other.”

  He shrugged. “I know what you sound like when you’re afraid. I know what you look like when you think you’re about to die.” Before everything could get too serious, he added, “What I don’t know is what your favorite color is.”

  I was about to answer something teasing, until I thought about it for a second. “You know, I’m not entirely sure. Wait, yes, I am. It’s the cloudy silvery-blue of glacial runoff. You?”

  “Somewhat similar to yours, actually: aquamarine, because it reminds me of Luvos’s sky and oceans.” At the mention of his home planet—the home he could never see again—my smile dropped away. Nev noticed, and his own smile quickly filled in for mine. “Moving on. Hm, you’ll probably throw me off this log if I ask what your favorite flower is.”

  “Hey, don’t assume I don’t like flowers,” I said with mock indignation, then seized his shoulders and threw him off the log. Unfortunately, Nev was too fast and dragged me with him. We both went tumbling in sand that was part windblown snow and crusty ice.

  Nev took advantage of our tumble and pinned my shoulders to the ground, leaning on top of me while he was at it. The stars sparkled in his hair. My breath caught, and not just because of his weight on my chest. It didn’t matter that his eyes were dull, his nose was a bit crooked, and his jaw, cheekbones, and brow looked off. Whatever it was inside that made him shone out like a sun and drew me in like nothing else could.

  “This is where I’m supposed to compliment your beauty and try to kiss you,” he said, his words warm, foggy caresses on my cheeks. “But because you’re you and I’m me…” He sprinkled snow on my neck, where it trickled down the back of my fur hood.

  I squeaked and threw him off me. He sat up, but he was laughing so hard he couldn’t stand.

  “Now I know what you sound like when you squeak,” he said, gasping. “See, learning new things.”

  I tossed a handful of snow at his face. While he was busy trying to block, then spitting and wiping his eyes, I rolled to my feet and stuck out a hand, for him this time.

  “Mr. Dracorte,” I said in the finest courtly tone I could muster, which was probably laughable. Instead of laughing, he blinked at me in surprise. Mr. sounded so strange with Dracorte, but I wasn’t about to call him Prince or Your Highness. I didn’t think he would want me to, either. “Might you escort me to the bonfire?”

  He grinned and took my hand. After I pulled him to his feet, he kept hold of it. I looked at him, feeling suddenly shy. “It’s a snow-whisper. My favorite flower. They don’t look like much, just these tiny, pale pink blossoms, but they actually bloom on snow. You can even find them in Gamut in early spring.”

  His voice was low. “I would very much like to find some with you, when the time comes. But for now…”

  The bonfire was a massive orange beacon, beckoning us through the darkness between the waves and the shore. I could hear the thrumming of music even at a distance. Some bonfires were the quieter kind, with mingling and conversation. Some, like this one, were for only one purpose. The silhouettes of heavily clad figures leapt and spun—so different from the confined forms of the royal dances that I’d suffered through on Luvos, but no less skillful. Pounding, whipping feet kicked up sand in time to a powerful drumbeat backed by a half-dozen other instruments and a singer with a lovely, smoky voice.

  Nev leaned close, his breath a husky murmur in my ear that made me buzz. “I want to dance with you.”

  I didn’t—couldn’t—resist as we drew near and the music took hold of us. Nev swept me up in his arms, sending us into something like a skipping waltz, but looser, freer. I was still terrible at it, but I threw my head back and laughed, my hair spilling out of my hood. Fire and the shadows of other dancers spun in the night. I couldn’t tell who they were, and I didn’t care. Mostly, all I could see was Nev’s flame-glowing face, which didn’t even look strange to me anymore.

  He bent his head and kissed my cheek, then neck, trying to nuzzle deeper into the layers. His lips were chilly, but I’d never felt so warm. Definitely different from how we’d danced before. Even here, in the darkness, I was suddenly conscious of who might be watching us. Sure enough, somebody whooped, but it didn’t matter.

  Nev pulled away for a second, his eyes glowing even behind his contacts in the firelight. Then, finally, he kissed me on the lips, first softly, then deeply, his tongue joining mine and carrying on the dance. My heart, my body, and the very air pounded with the beat. My head spun, but it felt like the entire planet was shifting around us.

  The motion of his lips paused, his mouth alongside my face, his breath panting. “Qole.” He swallowed, started again, and my pulse leapt, as if attached to his words by a string. “Qole, I think I lo—”

  A harsh beeping shredded what he was about to say, wrenching both our eyes open. It was coming from our comms, from Nev’s on his wrist and mine clipped to the inside of my coat.

  Nev opened the line before I could.

  “What?” he snapped.

  “Sorry to disturb you, Your Highness.” My older brother’s tone made me wince. “But Basra has just informed me that there’s a spike in Shadow activity. I know working for a living might be an unfamiliar concept for you, but it’s time to fish.”

  I cut in before Nev could say something to irritate Arjan further. “Thanks for letting us know. Prep the ship. We’ll be right there.”

  * * *

  Death was headed straight for us once again.

  “Arjan, look out!” I shouted into the comm.

  I could see his skiff against the bright, rainbow hues of the molecular clouds through the viewport ringing my captain’s station on the much bigger Kaitan. My brother was towing a glowing net between his ship and ours while banking around other asteroids and debris. Except he hadn’t seen the giant rock whirling straight for our net.

  The net was only meant to hold Shadow, the energy source we were trying to harvest. Not asteroids. Never mind the damage that would cause to our new net—but the tension of the impact would draw Arjan’s skiff and the Kaitan together, as if we were weights at the end of a string, flinging us into each other.

  Arjan cursed and barrel-rolled, twisting the cables around each other and collapsing the surface area of the shimmering mag-field. But not fast enough. The cables still glanced off the asteroid. The Kaitan shuddered, and his skiff lurched violently. He barely managed to straighten out in time before colliding head-on with yet another asteroid.

  Just another day fishing for Shadow in the Alaxak Asteroid Sea.

  “Sorry. I assumed he’d seen it, or I would have shot it,” Eton said from his perch up in the weapons turret.

  “Great Collapse, Arjan,” I said, “that was too close. Watch your blind spot!”

  “Captain, word choice,” Basra warned off-comm from his station below me, visible through the grating under my feet. The gender-fluid, slightly slo
uched twenty-five-year-old beneath me was not only the best trader in the galaxy and so knew how to read people like infopads, but he was also Arjan’s boyfriend. Or girlfriend, depending. His appearance and expression were neutral at the moment, only his eyes sharp in his handsome, coppery face.

  It was too late to take back my words.

  “Yeah, well”—my brother’s voice was bitter, cracking, furious—“that’s a little hard when I’m missing an eye.”

  Sure enough, the asteroid had been on his left, on the side where he now wore a leather eye patch to cover the empty socket. I usually tried to position the Kaitan so the mag-field net wasn’t on his left, but sometimes it was simply impossible.

  “I offered to be his spotter,” Nev muttered from the copilot station. That console had never been used until now, except by me as a child when I’d watch my father fly. I didn’t turn to look at him, trying to keep my focus. I wasn’t used to having company up here.

  My hand tightened on the throttle. Nev’s past—a royal among us commoners—made it difficult for some of the crew to accept him. Maybe, in some ways, for me too. And somehow it was even harder to accept him here in the copilot’s chair than it was in my captain’s quarters. Our differences were easier to ignore behind closed doors, without an audience.

  For Arjan, having anyone in the skiff, helping him fly, would have been much worse: an admission. My brother couldn’t fly nearly as well now. He was putting us all at risk. I’d been trying to give him time to adjust, but I couldn’t deny it anymore.

  I eased off the throttle, making our course less deadly and forcing Arjan, on the other side of the net, to slow with me.

  I hoped Nev would keep quiet, but he added, more loudly, “Maybe next time, you’ll let me—”

  “I don’t need your help, Prince,” Arjan hissed through the comm. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough already, hey?”

  I tensed. Nev’s guilt over what had happened was huge, as was his desire for forgiveness, his hope that he was one of us now.