“How generous of you,” she said, drolly. “And how do you plan to leave, exactly? Even assuming you do, your solution is just to throw me at the first port you come across? My blood means nothing beyond Psyche. I’d be fated to be some dockyard strumpet for as long as my looks lasted. And no doubt, some mage-hunter would detect me and send me right back here, anyway.”
Lucian frowned. When he had saved her life, he certainly hadn’t expected all these complications. He hated to admit that killing her would have been far simpler.
But even so, Lucian could feel the truth. She was scared, and her contrary nature was just a shield. After what she’d been through with the Queen, that made sense. It would be best to give her the benefit of the doubt, unless she did something substantial enough to lose that benefit.
“Maybe we can find an Academy to enroll you in, I don’t know,” he said. “This is all pointless unless my plan works, anyway.”
“You still haven’t shared your plan. Out with it.”
She was a woman used to getting what she wanted quickly, especially from those she deemed socially inferior. Well, she had another think coming. She knew nothing about the Orbs he held, and until she proved herself in some way and stopped berating him, telling her would be supremely stupid.
“I have a plan,” he said. “I just can’t tell you.”
“A secret plan.” She smiled. “Aren’t those the best kind?”
His face flushed. “Well, I’m not going to just tell you. I don’t know if you can be trusted yet.” He looked back toward the Spire entrance. “Look. Would you at least come inside and meet the others? They helped me to rescue you.”
“Ah. So they are to blame as well.”
“If you choose to think of it that way, sure. It’s your life. We have food, but not much. Maybe we can find some more where the Zephyr went down.”
“So that’s how everyone got out here,” she said. “Shame about that ship. We might have sailed it to the Riftlands. It wouldn’t have been an easy life for me, but certainly better than drying out like a prune in the Burning Sands.”
Lucian had another dark thought about why the Queen might have selected Selene. As a disagreeable person, she might not have been much missed.
“You can join us. Or stay out here. We’ll likely set out tomorrow at dawn.”
“That’s ill-advised,” Selene said. “The sun will burn you to a crisp, and I can’t hold a Thermal ward that long.”
Lucian nodded. “Fair enough. Tomorrow night, then.”
At that moment, the ground rumbled, causing the sands ahead of them to shift. It was a good half minute before the moonquake had passed. The sudden movement made Selene grasp onto him like a life raft in a storm.
As soon as the quake had passed, she let go of him as if he were toxic sludge.
Lucian shook his head. “You’re welcome.”
“And we have these wonderful quakes to look forward to, too,” Selene said, as if she hadn’t offended Lucian in any way. As if his feelings didn’t matter. “If you get me back to the Westlands, past the Fire Rifts, maybe then I will be glad you spared my life.”
Lucian scoffed. “Come inside and eat. Or not. But if you do, mind your manners. You’re not in charge of anything out here, and you’ll need us to survive just as much as we need you.”
He returned to the Spire at a fast pace. Selene did not follow.
49
Over a bowl of watery soup that did little to satisfy his hunger, Lucian shared his conversation with Selene.
Once done, Serah nodded. “Yep. Should’ve killed her.”
“Killing her would’ve done no good,” Fergus said. “An Atomicist would be incredibly useful. She can make water for us. Any Atomicist worth their salt can do that, and we certainly don’t have the water supplies to make it all the way to the Westlands.”
“Can Atomicists make food, too?” Serah asked.
Fergus frowned. “I’m not sure, but that seems a bit more complicated.”
“I might forgive her if she conjures us a full dinner here. Wyvern skewers spiced with caro, slathered with plenty of butter and herbs, some roasted potatoes and cave mushrooms . . .”
“Not helping,” Fergus said.
Their conversation was cut off when Selene stood in the wide-open archway. She joined them at their fire, warming her hands.
“I’m Selene.”
“We know,” Serah said, somewhat coldly.
Her green eyes watched Serah, somewhat amused, but she said nothing more.
“Would you like something to eat?” Fergus asked.
Selene watched him a moment, her eyes placid. “If you please.”
Fergus passed her a bowl of soup, even throwing in a few extra chunks of meat. Selene looked at it, all but pinching her nose as she stared at it.
“What is this?” she asked.
“Dinner,” Fergus said. “Beef, caro, and potatoes mostly.”
Lucian watched Serah nervously. If Selene turned down this meal, she might actually kill the woman.
Selene took a small, dainty sip. “It’s not . . . terrible.”
“Well, eat up,” Fergus said. “We’ve only enough food for two days. Four, if we stretch it.”
“We need to head out to the crash site tomorrow night,” Lucian said. “It can’t be far, and there were stores of food for two hundred. Some of it has to be intact.”
“It’s probably five meters deep in sand by now,” Serah said.
“We’ll find it. We have new tools at our disposal.”
That one vague line was enough to communicate to Fergus and Serah that Lucian hadn’t told Selene about his Orbs.
“It’s time for sleep,” Fergus said. “There’s no monsters out here that can bother us, right? No wyverns, giant sand worms, anything of that nature?”
“Nothing like that,” Serah said. “The climate is what kills.”
“No point setting a watch, then,” Fergus said.
“Someone might have survived the
