Between Burning Worlds (System Divine #2) - Jessica Brody Page 0,132

what I was going to say.”

He cracked a smile, his dark eyes sparkling in the beam of the flashlight. “Yes, I do.”

Chatine let the defeat sink in. She loathed to admit that Etienne was right, but he was. She was in no condition to find anyone.

“And besides,” Etienne added, “if you leave now, you won’t get to meet the rest of the community. And everyone has been dying to meet you.”

“Me?” Chatine thought of all those Défecteurs she’d seen in the lodge earlier and her gut twisted.

“Yes. Gridders are a bit of a novelty here. People are always fascinated by them. You’re actually the third gridder to join us in the past month. And everyone loves Fabian and his wife, Gen. They arrived about two weeks before you. The people here can’t get enough of them. They’re like celebrities around the camp. I’m sure it’ll be the same with you.”

Chatine scoffed in disbelief. She’d spent so many years speculating about Défecteurs, she never even thought that they might be speculating about her.

“I hope they can deal with disappointment,” she muttered. “My life is not all that interesting.”

“Are you kidding? You were locked up on Bastille. And you escaped. You’re already a hero in their eyes.”

A hero who failed to save her own brother … twice.

“Well, then I definitely hope they can deal with disappointment.”

“What were you on Bastille for anyway?” Etienne asked. “You never told me.”

Chatine thought back to the long list of things she should have been sent to Bastille for over the years—theft, burglary, fraud, deceit, conning, pickpocketing, terrorization, unlawful manipulation of a Skin, assault of a Policier sergent, stealing from the dead, being born a Renard—and she was grateful that she didn’t have to admit to any of those. She could just speak the truth.

“Treason,” she said lightly, as though she were simply admitting to putting her shoes on the wrong feet.

Etienne barked out a laugh. “Treason?”

Chatine shrugged. “Yup.”

“Really?”

“I was in possession of some very important intelligence, and I lied to General Bonnefaçon about it. That’ll put you away for a long time.”

Etienne’s expression was so packed with astonishment, Chatine almost laughed.

“Makes your little stunt with the zyttrium look pretty tame, huh?” she asked.

Etienne shook his head. “Okay, traitor. C’mon. I’ll help you back to the camp.” The beam of his flashlight fell to the sac strapped around Chatine’s chest and his expression suddenly shifted, his eyebrows knitting together. “What exactly is going on here?”

Chatine sighed. “I borrowed it, okay? I’m sorry.”

Etienne continued to stare at the bag, the light from the flashlight illuminating the outline of his angular features, which were now twisted and taut, as though he were trying hard to stifle a laugh.

“What?” she demanded.

“You’re supposed to wear it on your back.” He reached forward and slowly began to untangle Chatine’s arms from the straps, his body impossibly close to hers. She struggled to keep her balance on the crutches as he removed the bag from her shoulders and slipped his own arms through the straps before letting it fall against his back. “It’s called a backpack. See?”

Okay, that makes much more sense.

What was it about this place—and him—that made her feel so stupide? As much as she hated life in the Frets, at least she knew how everything worked. She wasn’t constantly making a fool of herself there. She knew how to wear a Sol-damn sac.

With a huff, she turned and began to hobble back to the camp. Etienne jogged to catch up to her. “Wait. Let me help you, at least.”

She continued to swing efficiently on her crutches. “That’s okay. I’ve got this.”

But she clearly didn’t have this, because a moment later, the crutch slipped out from under her again. This time, however, Etienne caught her, his hands landing on either one of her elbows.

“I have a better idea,” he said once Chatine was stable. He slipped the backpack from his shoulders and spun it around, looping his arms through the straps and letting it settle over his chest, just as Chatine had worn it. Then, he bent down in front of her and pointed at his back.

“Hop on.”

“Why would I do that?”

“So I can give you a lift.”

For a moment Chatine just stared at the back of Etienne’s puffy coat, confused by the gesture. “Why can’t I just walk?”

“Um, maybe because we saw how well that worked a second ago? C’mon, jump on.” He wiggled his hips slightly, making Chatine’s mouth quirk into the tiniest of smiles.

She told herself it was