Page 46 of When the Universe Sings

“Aristedes unpacked while we were at the party last night.” He moved to the large cabinet beside the windows, tugged open the doors and drew out the gown on a gilded hanger.

His gloved fingers brushed mine as he handed it to me, eyes fixed to my face. But he said nothing as I turned toward the bathroom, even if his gaze burned into my flesh until I was sure I would have another brand. And when I closed the door behind me, I wondered if I imagined the soft groan swallowed by the pillows and sheets he flopped face down on.

…

By the time I’d fought my way into the gown and its heavy stones I was sweating. I’d had to sit on the edge of thebathtocatch my breath—not that I could breathe when the fabric barely moved around my ribs. I was pretty sure Lunastra thought my lungs were in my hips, since she seemed intent on exposing them with each outfit.

Unlike last night, there was only one slit in the skirt, but it ran almost to my armpit, the bodice held in place by glittering chains with tinyozindanustones like the ones on the shawl, dripping from my throat, over my collarbones, and down my upper arms. It wasn’t that they were heavy, but putting the entire ensemble on was complicated enough I needed two extra hands like Hudzon. I didn’t call for help, but by the time I got it on, I wished I had.

Once I caught my breath, I took my time with the cosmetics, trying to remember everything Zoleka told me about how to apply them to my face—how if done properly, it was its own mask one could hide behind. I left my hair free, not wanting another headache like last night, and sighed heavily when I had to slip my feet back into the sky-high shoes.

I tugged the door open and let out the most humiliating squeak.

Asher sat on the corner of the bed, twisting a piece of black metal between his hands. It took me a moment to realize it was his respirator. With his shoulders hiked almost to his ears and head tilted down, I couldn’t see his face, but I could practically taste the tension rolling off him, made worse when I took a step closer.

Finally, he wrenched himself upright and looked at me. “Am I as monstrous as you feared I would be?”

His voice hadn’t been changed by the respirator—it was just as deep and resonant as before. I could only stare at the perfection of his features. Twelve cycles ago he’d been just at the start of malehood, but now? Now he carried the sharp lines of strength in his jaw, the fullness of his mouth, the perfect balancefor the angle of his cheeks. His nostrils flared with his inhale, silver gaze sliding down my body and up again, gloved hands fisting tight on his thighs.

“I didn’t fear it,” I whispered.

He stood until he was towering over me. “Why not?”

I had to tilt my head back to look at him. A healed scar bisected the right side of his mouth, another on his cheekbone, beneath the silver markings. “Because I saw your face that day in the forest and I’ve seen it in my dreams every night since.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Nightmares, you mean.”

He was right, but somehow he looked so fragile in this moment I couldn’t bring myself to agree. My hand moved of its own accord, rising to press to his chest, fingertips brushing the skin exposed by the open collar of his shirt. I wanted to tell him I thought he was beautiful, that even back then I had. I wanted to say that my dreams had started as nightmares but recently had truly become dreams. Dreams where he pulled me from the ground and held me tight in his arms, where he whispered to me I was safe, though I’d forgotten the meaning of the word. He sometimes spoke ofhome, but there was no home for me—not anymore.

His gloved hand covered mine, thumb brushing once across my knuckles. The light in the room seemed to brighten, the air sweetened, and I wondered when I’d taken a step closer to him. When had I crawled out from that safe space within my mind, when had I decided at least right now, in this moment, I couldn’t find it in myself to hate him?

“There’s something I need to tell you,j’ska mahsi,” he breathed, fingertips brushing the line of my jaw. “I?—”

The doors burst open and Aristedes bounded in, clapping their hands together in excitement. We broke apart quickly, but the servant only beamed.

“My master is proud to announce that the gala has begun. Please follow me to transport.”

This was it. There was no going back now. And I couldn’t help but fear that at the end of all this I would once again be left as I had been the day I shoved myself into the ventilation unit on theDaskquah.

Resigned to my fate.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-TWO

Before Asher turned to Aristedes,he tugged up the hood of his cowl and pulled the bottom over his nose and mouth. He placed a hand low on my back, guiding me forward to follow the servant as he guided us down the hall and back in the direction of the hangar we’d landed in.

Lesephous rocked back and forth on his toes, cheeks bright red in excitement, as guests filed onto a lavish cruiser. He greeted each guest in the custom of Louxurians, pressing his brow to their palm and vice versa.

“Captain Ruciyah!” the male cried as we approached, grabbing Asher’s hand to press his brow to the glove.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Asher purred, returning the gesture, then tucked me tighter to his side as the line behind us jostled.

Lesephous pointed vaguely to his mouth and then to Asher. “You must?—”

“All in good time, my friend.” Asher lifted a hand, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “We will see you on the ship.”

Before Lesephous could argue, he ushered me onto the ramp, dragging up the hem of my gown in his fist so it didn’t tangle in my shoes. Unlike our tiny and simple jumper, this appeared to be merely an extension of the male’s estate, or perhaps a smaller version of his ship we’d first met him on. We picked two seats in a corner that faced the ramp, Asher observing each guest as they made their way up while I scanned the room.