Between Burning Worlds (System Divine #2) - Jessica Brody Page 0,163

busy bolting together sheets of metal to make the walls, and the older kids were laying down big interlocking tiles for the floors. In desperation, Chatine turned toward the couple seated off to the side, but they had gone back to kissing.

Chatine glared at Mercure. Her ears were starting to burn from his earsplitting wail. “Um, excuse me,” she said to him, trying to keep the frustration from her voice. “Can you please be quiet now?”

The baby just continued to cry, his face now twisted and angry, tears streaming down his cheeks while his little chest puffed from the effort.

“Look,” Chatine said reasonably. “You’re obviously upset. I get that. So why not just stop crying and we can all stop being upset. Doesn’t that sound like a good solution?”

More tears as Mercure began to wriggle and squirm.

“Yeah, I don’t like this situation any more than you do,” Chatine said, glancing around the construction zone. “I’m trying to find someone who can—”

Mercure gave an angry, tearful wrench and slipped right through Chatine’s hands. The baby fell. Chatine gasped and lunged, her arms outstretched. Her injured leg made a disturbing ripping sound, but she barely heard or felt anything except the infant’s tiny body landing in her arms, just centimètres before striking the ground.

Shaken and breathless, Chatine clutched the infant to her chest and held it tightly as she slowly maneuvered herself back down into the chair. “Sols,” she whispered into the baby’s ear. “That was very stupide of you. Don’t do that again.”

And that’s when she smelled it.

It wasn’t the scent of rotten eggs.

It wasn’t the scent of rotten anything.

It was sweet and warm and soothing. Like freshly baked bread. Like the nine-year-old memory of Sol-light on her face.

“Like Henri,” said a quiet voice in her head.

Chatine shut her eyes and welcomed the voice back with open arms. It had felt like forever since Azelle had spoken to her and Chatine had feared that she’d left her back on Bastille.

Yes, Chatine whispered back into her mind. Like Henri.

And just like that, she was past the fence. She was inside the danger zone. She was living in it as though it were right now. As though it had never ended. As though it had never become a place of danger to begin with.

For a few blissful seconds, she was back inside a time when he was the safe place.

I miss him, Chatine told Azelle. I miss our little brother.

“I know,” Azelle whispered.

A lump formed in Chatine’s throat as she searched for the courage to say the words that had been clinging to the back corners of her brain ever since she’d received the alert about the explosif that had taken Azelle’s life. Words that had seemed to grow stale and soggy, like chou bread left out too long in the rain. But words that she knew she still needed to say.

And I miss you, Azelle. Every day. More than I ever thought I would.

Azelle made no reply. But Chatine could swear she felt her sister smile.

She brought her face closer to the baby’s cheek and breathed in his beautiful, fresh scent. Her arms instinctively tightened around him, and she began to sway back and forth. As though she had no control. Her body moved separately from her mind. The memory took over.

And soon, she was whispering into his ear. “There are three Sols in the sky. Yes, three! Sol 1 is the white one, Sol 2 is the red one, and Sol 3 is the blue one. Aren’t we lucky to live under so many stars?”

Tears blurred her vision. Her heart heaved. But when she squeezed her eyes shut tighter, bracing herself against the pain, she felt only light and weightlessness. Like a voyageur breaking through the clouds.

She buried her face in the side of the baby’s hood, keeping her lips close to his ear. “When we’re big,” she went on, “we can go up there.” Her voice was cracking. But it seemed like every other part of her was coming back together. Fusing like broken bones. Melding like healed skin. “We can zoom off in a big space voyageur, and we can see all the stars really close. Would you like that? Would you like to see the stars?”

Her cheeks were wet with tears now. They were flowing like water from a busted pipe. Pooling at the bottom of her chin. She shuddered and pulled the baby’s tiny body closer, drawing strength from his scent, determination from his warmth, and courage