Page 120 of Star Bringer
“I don’t know,” I tell her honestly. “I have no fucking idea. But I’m starting to think we should’ve been more scared of the sentient ship we’ve stolen and what she’s capable of.”
Chapter 46
Kali
I bite back a whimper as Ian carries me toward the ship. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, everything hurts again, and I can’t stop trembling. The ramp lowers as we approach, and then Max is running down it. Merrick, Rain, and a bandaged but smiling Gage stand at the top, watching us, and Beckett is nowhere to be seen. I’m assuming, gladly, that she’s on the bridge ready to get us the fuck out of here.
“We’re almost there, Princess,” Ian tells me, and his voice is so much softer than how he normally talks to me that I can’t help blinking. I’m either dying or delirious, and right now I’m not sure which is worse.
Max comes to a halt in front of us and looks us up and down. “Good to see you,” he says. Then, “Is she alive?” He sounds dubious as he stares at me.
I raise my head a little and waggle my fingers. “Mostly alive,” I answer. “Thanks for saving us, by the way. I thought for sure it was over.”
“We didn’t save you,” Max replies as we keep walking. “We were coming in for the second rendezvous when we saw what was happening, but we couldn’t get here fast enough.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I thought you were dead for sure.”
“So, why aren’t we?” Ian asks.
“TheStarlighttook over. Completely. Beckett didn’t have to do anything. The ship flew us over here, and then she just started blasting. It was amazing—like a concentrated solar flare, just like Kali saw on Rangar. I thought for sure you were caught up in the middle of it and fried to a crisp.”
As soon as we make it to the top, the ramp rises behind us, and the ship lifts off. Then we’re flying away from this nightmare of a planet. Despite just surviving what should have been certain death more than once, I can’t help a slight feeling of foreboding at Max’s words.
Who’s in charge of this little adventure—us or theStarlight?
And if it really is theStarlight, then what’s her agenda?
I can’t think on it too much as we start walking through the ship; the pain is too distracting, and my consciousness floats in and out. I assume we’re going to my room—where else would we go—but when Ian turns the wrong way down one of theStarlight’s hallways, all the others following behind us, I don’t argue with him. I can’t.
My leg is throbbing but also aching. Plus, a sharp pain runs through it every few seconds that has me pressing my lips together and trying not to scream.
So I close my eyes and rest my head against Ian’s chest. He smells of smoke and blood and something uniquely Ian. It’s becoming familiar and strangely comforting for such a hard-assed guy.
The others are following him, and I can hear them talking, but trying to assign meanings to words is too hard, so I just let the conversation flow over me.
If I’m honest, everything feels like too much work now. My whole body feels strange, like I’m floating and detached from everything and everyone around me. Except Ian. Him, I can feel. Him, I can hear and see and smell. I hold on to that, on to him, as the world once again shifts and realigns beneath my feet.
I’d thought I was going to die—had resigned myself to it, if not accepted it. And now that I’m coming back from that edge, everything feels strange. Different. Like nothing will ever be the same again—in my life or in me.
I’m sure Ian would tell me I’m just being dramatic, but I don’t care. If I can’t be dramatic after I nearly die, when can I be?
I hear theswishof a door, and then Ian is lowering me to a bed as everyone crowds around me.
“Come on, Princess. Lean forward for me.” He’s tugging the wet poncho over my head.
I open my eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. Definitely not my quarters.
“Welcome to the sick bay,” Max says, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders. “You’re only our second patient.”
I’m lying on a wide bed. It’s higher than my own bed and covered in some sort of white, nonporous material—probably so they can wipe off the blood.
“How are you feeling?” Ian asks as he slips off my blood-covered boots.
I stare at him. “Like I’ve been shot.”
Gage laughs. “Nice to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”
“Nice to see you haven’t lost yours,” I answer right back.
“Is that what we’re calling it?” Max has propped the back of the bed up so I can sit, and I lean back against it with a grateful sigh.
