Bonds of Brass (The Bloodright Trilogy #1) - Emily Skrutskie Page 0,106

tormented look that’s been shrouding his face since we arrived on the base. But no matter what’s in his head, a smile’s only part of the act.

Still, it’s a damn good act.

I clamber up the ladder, down the hall, and into the cockpit, where Esperza is already installed at the controls. I brace myself for her to do something reckless, even though it’s difficult to reconcile the messy, grungy Adela we met in the undercity with the woman decked out in a colonel’s uniform. Her casual slouch in the pilot’s seat helps with that.

“The mechanics have been going wild on this thing,” Esperza says, running her flesh hand affectionately over the dashboard. “The little rutter’s been souped up to every hell and back. No more handling like a doped-up puppy. Want to see?” She reaches for the ignition, but Gal holds up a hand.

And she freezes. Grins. Sits back in her seat.

My eyes narrow, flicking between them. Two weeks on the base, and already Gal has enough clout that a colonel is taking cues from him?

“Suit yourself.” Esperza rises from the pilot’s seat, ducking the instruments and crossing the cockpit. “It’ll fly better than anyone expects, which makes it a profoundly valuable addition to the arsenal. So thanks for that.”

“I feel like we should be thanking you,” I reply.

She smirks. “Given what the general has planned for it, I wouldn’t thank me yet. But that’s a topic for another dull meeting, and I’ve got other shit to do.”

“We’ll leave you to it,” Gal says with a nod. “My associate and I need to talk anyway.”

My stomach bottoms out. Here we go.

“He’s all yours,” Esperza says. “Let me know if you change your mind about that test drive. This thing’s got some surprises in it that might be worth your while.”

Gal waits until the sound of her boots has faded down the ramp before he lets out his breath. In that instant, he transforms from hungry rebel upstart to exhausted young prince. “So with these ships, the assault plan is getting a lot more concrete,” he says, dropping into the copilot’s seat. I try to reconcile his cold, factual tone with the Gal who curled up in that chair over two weeks ago, wild-eyed with raw panic. I come up empty.

I stay standing, leaning against the back of the pilot’s seat. The cracks in the cushioning are familiar. It isn’t another Beamer, cleverly painted to look like our ship. This is the vessel that carried us out of Umber, the one that I dodged missiles and ran a blockade in.

The one he pressed me against when he tried to kiss me.

Has he changed so much since then? Or was this the truth of him all along?

“Enjoying yourself?” I blurt. The words come out so sharp that I want to swallow them immediately to spare him from their edges.

Gal’s head snaps up, eyes narrowing. “Do I look like I’m enjoying myself? How the rut could you think—”

“I don’t know what to think,” I snap. “One minute you’re chumming with a woman who scammed us out of a ship—”

“We stole the ship.”

“Hush.” I bury my face in my hands, groaning. “Every day, I see less and less of you. Or of the person I thought you were. I thought you were starting to like this—that maybe you…”

Oh gods, this is not what I was supposed to be telling him.

When I peek out between my fingers, Gal has slumped low in the copilot’s seat. The look he fixes me with is cool and guarded, and it makes me doubt myself even more. “Finish that sentence,” he says, a slight tremor in his voice.

“That maybe you…you’ve been putting on the act for me. That you really are the Umber heir through and through, every inch your parents’ blood.”

Gal lets out a low, humorless snort, turning to face the windshield and the sprawling salvaged fleet outside. I brace for the inevitable confirmation of every sneaking suspicion that’s wormed into me over the past weeks.