“Can you not sleep?” I whisper.
A rustling outside the church makes me crane my neck. I can feel the tension coiling in my muscles as I wait for the sound to come again. When it does, I can hear the distinct ruffling of feathers and let my head fall back down onto my arm.
My right side is numb, but I’m too afraid to move, to shift closer to Bastien or farther away. I can feel his warmth against my back, and I close my eyes, wishing it didn’t feel as good as it does.
“I’ve been thinking.”
I stretch out my leg and nearly moan as the needles ripple along my calf. “About earlier?” Flexing my toes brings more jabs of pain, but they slowly begin to subside and feeling returns.
“No,” he quickly says, leaving little doubt to just how far he wants to tread away from that subject. “About your mission. It doesn’t make sense to me.”
Now I do roll over. It takes some effort to toss my dead arm over, but I manage to shift onto my back. I stare up at the ceiling, noticing for the first time that I can see a small patch of cloud through the hole in the roof.
He continues on as if I asked him to. “I’ve been going over it again and again in my head, but I just don’t get it.”
Rising up onto his elbows, he looks down at me. His face is clothed in shadow, making it impossible to see his expression. “Why are we really going to this base?”
I frown. “You don’t know?”
“Kyan sent word a week ago that we had discovered Drakon’s location. I know about the downed Sky Ships and my scouts have evidence that he is moving forces away from the base. If that is the case, why not fly you directly to my base? By the time we reach there and then add on top the travel time, Drakon will have had the chance to escape again.”
My hair feels dry against my forehead, slightly curled and frizzy. Staring at the patch of sky overhead, I wonder how long it will be until daylight returns and we can leave. Surely not soon enough for me to escape this conversation.
“I know something is missing.” His voice is tight, controlled. “What haven’t I been told, Illyria?”
I can’t look at him. It doesn’t matter that I can’t really seem him in the near-pitch dark. I just can’t face him, knowing that Kyan lied to him as well.
“We aren’t going there for Drakon. We’re stealing a ship.”
To his credit, Bastien doesn’t explode like I anticipated. Instead, he lies back down and crosses his hands over his chest. We lay in completely silence for several minutes before he speaks again.
“Why did you agree to this?”
I blink, confused by his question. “We need the ship. Of course I would do anything to help.”
“No.” He shakes his head, letting it roll to the side so he is watching me. “I don’t buy that. Kyan would never risk your safety just for a Sky Ship. We have plenty of them.”
I bite on my lower lip and realize just how tender it has become. I’ve been worrying a lot lately and it has seen its fair share of abuse. “We aren’t stealing a Sky Ship, Bastien.”
Even without light to see him by, I know his gaze is piercing and alert. “We’re stealing a space transport.”
His silence worries me. Bastien is nothing if not vocal about his thoughts. The fact that he has lapsed into a complete and utter calm is unsettling. He shouldn’t be calm. He should be angry. Furious at Kyan for keeping this from him. Bastien isn’t stupid. He knows what the ship is ultimately for.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper into the dark.
I look up to see the rafters of the church building rising at a sharp peak. They are made from a dark wood and at one time were probably glossed and pretty. The wooden boarding between the beams was probably once white but is more of a dingy gray now, much like the walls.
Rolling my head to the side, I realize I can just make out the curve of his chin and the slant of his nose. His eyelashes look long as they rest just above his upper cheek. His eyes are closed and his breathing steady, but I can feel the turmoil brewing within him.
Bastien has always unknowingly given me exactly what I need, even when I don’t know I need it. Even now he is giving me time to think, to ponder exactly what I feel about Kyan’s plans and how they’ll impact me.
It would be far too easy to lean on him now. To need him too much. Already I can feel myself longing for that connection we used to have, but I know I have to fight it or be lost all over again.
He stirs and I watch as his chest rises and falls, expelling a long, slow breath. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I knew this day would come.”
There is profound sadness in his words, just as I had feared there would be, but there is something more, something Eamon could never quite manage—acceptance.