Spinning Starlight (24 page)

The Agnac senior councillor leans onto the table in front of him with his long arms. “We are not satisfied with Shiin’alo’s handling of ‘ the situation’ thus far and
cannot leave it to her any longer.” Tiav flinches, so slightly I doubt anyone else sees it, but otherwise doesn’t falter. “She has given us no information on the only questions
that matter—how the heathen got here, and why she has come.”

All evidence of flinching is gone as Tiav finally releases my hand so he can stand, but he doesn’t stop there. He strides across the space separating us from the council, staring down the
Agnac.

“We will not answer any questions so long as you keep calling her that. Just hours ago, she was nearly killed in an unprovoked attack instigated by
your
people, Oxurg.
That’s exactly the type of action we’ve been taught to expect from the so-called heathens, not our own friends, so I will not stand for the use of that word anymore.”

That quickly, my anger at my own silence cools. Tiav knows these people and their cultures, and young as he is, he has authority I don’t grasp. He can advocate for me in ways I
couldn’t for myself.

A familiar gesture answers Tiav’s outburst—a slight ducking of Oxurg’s head, though he certainly doesn’t look happy. “My apologies, Aelo.”

Ymana raises a finger to call for the floor. “I can’t help but notice, Tiav’elo, that you hardly seem objective.”

No, he’s not objective. And I’m glad he’s not.

“It isn’t my duty to be objective. It’s my duty to observe and to use both my head and my heart. And it’s been my duty to get to know Liddi despite the fact she
can’t speak. I don’t know everything, but I do know she is not the evil the Lost Points are meant to be.”

“Naturally, we respect your insight on her character,” Voand says. “The questions raised, however, are good ones. Why is she here?”

Tiav returns to my side, and I see the tiniest cracks in his confidence. Not doubts. But maybe anxiety. He knows I haven’t told him all I could, and while he accepts my reasons—for
now—it’s another matter when it comes to world leaders.

“She’s in danger on Sampati. I don’t know what kind, except that other people are also threatened. And I’m confident that anything she’s done—or not
done—has been her best effort to keep people safe.”

“And we are to be satisfied with such vague reasons?” Oxurg counters.

I read the question in Tiav’s eyes—can I explain now, suffering through the effort of writing it out? The answer is no way. Not after what happened in Podra, not here with the Agnac
already certain I’m the embodiment of evil, not when they know more about the Khua than I do. Not even when it’s putting Tiav in such an awful position. I can’t risk them taking
some kind of action to hurt my brothers, and I don’t know that Tiav could stop them.

“For now, it’s the best she can offer,” Tiav says. “And if lives are in the balance, I won’t question it. The Khua haven’t been clear, but they point toward
trusting her, too.”

I didn’t know that. Neither did anyone else, judging by the murmurs that rumble through the hall.

The senior council members turn to confer with each other, and the various delegations continue their own deliberations. It seems to take forever. Long enough that Tiav takes my hand again.
Finally, Voand waves the others off.

“This is simply too complicated a matter to take action in such short order. Liddi will remain in the confines of the primary Aelo quarters here in Chalu until we can determine the best
course. Tiav’elo, again, thank you. You are both excused.”

As Tiav takes me back out of the main hall, his eyes stay resolutely straight ahead. A twitch in his jaw tells me he’s holding something back. I wait until the door to the hall has closed
behind us, then rub my thumb along his. He looks down at me and exhales some of the tension.

“It could’ve been worse, Liddi. A lot worse. They could’ve forced the Aelo out altogether, sent me home. But this still isn’t good.”

I keep the question in my eyes, asking him why.

“Because you can’t leave Chalu until the council makes a decision. How efficient is the government for the Seven Points?”

Now I know what he means.

I could easily be stuck here for the rest of my life. And that really isn’t going to work for me.

Liddi knew she shouldn’t have pitched a fit when it was time to leave their vacation at the beach. And she shouldn’t have been surprised when she turned on a
media-cast the next day and found herself headlining it.

“Eight-year-old Liddi Jantzen was not happy about leaving the family’s Emerald Coast property yesterday.”

“And Vic Jantzen has the bruises to prove it.”

“This childish display certainly makes one wonder how she’ll handle the pressure of an entire—”

The voice-over cut off when Luko deactivated the screen. Liddi was going to tell him off and get him to turn it back on, but the look in his eyes stopped her. Sad and worried. So she stayed
calm and asked a simple question when he sat next to her.

“What pressure do they mean?”

“Vic and Durant won’t be happy if I tell you,” he said. A long pause left Liddi thinking Luko wouldn’t risk his brothers’ wrath. Then he sighed. “But
better me than the media-grubs. Dad’s company…when he died, he left it to you.”

His words twisted into an indecipherable knot in her gut. “Me? But Durant’s the oldest. I thought the oldest was supposed to get things. Or all of us.”

“We do all have a piece, but you have the biggest, the controlling share. The rest of us make a committee that’ll run things until you’re eighteen.”

She hugged her knees to her chest. She was too little to run a company, and she couldn’t conceive that even at eighteen she’d be big enough. “I still don’t get
why.”

“Dad worried that if we all had an equal part, we’d compete for control, fight with each other. Or if he put one of us in charge, the others would resent it. He was probably
right—you’ve seen how we go after each other.”

“You won’t resent me?”

“No, we could never resent you. You’re the one person we would all just want to help. And that’s what we’ll do.”

THE PRIMARY AELO QUARTERS
turn out to be in the building where we dropped off Jahmari. It’s not quite the penthouse in Podra, but spacious
and comfortable as temporary prisons go. Jahmari asks for the blow-by-blow as soon as we walk in. Tiav gives it to him while I work on spelling something out.

“Dee-sih-zhun kood bee wuht?”

“What could the council decide to do with you? Sparks, Liddi—argh, Jahmari, I know. ‘ An Aelo shouldn’t use such language.’ Sorry.”

So I was right.
Sparks
is definitely swearing. Maybe a derogatory word for the Khua.

Tiav can’t stand still. He paces, runs a hand through his hair, a caged tiger ready to attack anything that gets too close. An instinct urges me to calm him down, but I don’t know
how.

“They could force you back to Sampati,” he finally says. “Or keep you in confinement forever. Or leave you free, but never allow you to go home.”

The world turns to a winter freeze around me. Never go home? I don’t want to go
now
, with Minali threatening me, with my brothers trapped. But it’s always been in my mind
that
eventually
I’ll go back. My brothers and I will find a way to free them and stop Minali and I’ll go home.

But Tiav’s home is here, and the thought of never seeing him again is almost as cold.

Nothing fits.

Jahmari sits calmly, the only calm thing left in the universe, I’m pretty sure. His eyes explore mine, find what they’re looking for. “There’s someone you care about on
Sampati, someone you couldn’t bear to leave behind forever.”

Tiav’s tiger-trance breaks. He stops, looks at me with terror radiating from him. “Someone like…?”

Like Reb Vester wishes he could be? Definitely not. I shake my head, but Tiav and Jahmari both know there’s something. I can give them the tiniest piece of truth I dare.

“Bruh-therrs.”

“Liddi…you have family? They must be so worried about you.”

Not as worried as I am about them. I can’t keep that worry from my face, and Tiav can’t miss it.

“They’re the people in danger. The ones who could die if you don’t make the right choices.”

I glance at Jahmari, but if Tiav trusts him, so can I. I nod.

“How many?”

Eight fingers, and Tiav can’t completely hide his surprise. It’s a big family, I know. Explaining that a set of twins and one of triplets boosted our numbers would be too
complicated.

He chooses not to say anything about it. Instead he crosses the room and wraps his arms around me. Steady and warm and safe. All the lies I need to tell myself to keep going another day. He
doesn’t bother making empty promises. We both know there are no promises to be made. I can’t go home now; he doesn’t want me to leave. I can’t stay on Ferinne forever; I
don’t want to leave him.

The contradictions and paradoxes tie themselves in knots around my gut.

“There’s another option the council could go with,” Jahmari says softly.

Tiav’s muscles tighten through his arms and back, holding me closer, and his voice matches. “They wouldn’t.” I look up, willing him to explain, but his eyes are locked on
the Crimna physician. “There hasn’t been an execution in ages.”

My breath catches. I knew my life might be on the line with Minali, but not here.

“Yet the laws permitting them remain,” Jahmari says.

“She hasn’t done anything to warrant it.”

“If we can’t determine how she reached us from the Lost Points, an argument could be made.”

“Only by the Agnac. The others won’t allow it.”

Jahmari nods. “I hope you’re right.”

So do I. As little good as I’m doing my brothers now, I’ll do even less if I’m dead.

Waiting for the council to make up their minds means we have nothing better to do than continue working on gadgets and making small talk at the rate of three questions and
answers per hour if I have to spell things out. Tiav generally sticks to things I can answer easily, or lets me ask my own questions. If I don’t, his anxiety returns. Then silence is
Tiav’s companion as much as mine, the only words passing between us coded in the way he holds my hand.