CHAPTER 53

While everyone else is eager to see Venice Minor while the ship is being patched up, I head toward medical. By now, Doc has to know. Besides him and Rose, I’m the only one who knows what passed between them, so I’m the only one who can understand what he’s going through.

Half the lights don’t work, so I stride through a flickering wasteland of blown ceiling panels and loose wiring. Near med bay, the air turns acrid with the stink of charred polymers. The ship seems deserted; everyone else has disembarked, but I know he hasn’t.

I find him amid the wreckage of his lab. Any progress he’s made better be backed up in the ship’s database because the physical samples have been smashed. Maybe the dreadnaught is to blame for that, but from his expression, I think not. His silver hair stands on end, suggesting rough, careless hands in it.

He’s removed his white jacket and stands in his Armada uniform like a soldier, but his pose comes from anguish, not military bearing. That’s when I realize he’s not alone, at least not entirely. He already went to get her.

Rose’s body has been laid out on one of the tables. Doc must have covered her face, unable to look at the bloodshot eyes brought on by asphyxiation. For a moment, I consider backing out of the room, then discard the notion. He senses me anyway.

“She died thinking I had been untrue—even, perhaps, that I didn’t love her.”

“I know. I told her you did, and that she needed to talk to you about it.” This isn’t the time to mention how spectacularly he mishandled the confrontation. I suspect he doesn’t need me to figure that out; he’s a smart man.

“So she discussed our relationship with you?” He sounds numb, quiet now that the initial storm has passed.

“Yes, she did.” I summarize what she saw.

“The worst of it is . . .” He gazes up at the ceiling, hands clasped behind him. “She wasn’t wrong.”

I knew that by how you answered her, Saul. You’re not too clever for me to read.

I lean my hip against a counter littered with broken instruments. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

He shrugs. “Who else is there? If she confided in you, then it’s fitting I do.”

“Evelyn,” I prompt.

“She is . . . intoxicating,” he says quietly. “Her intellect shines like a diamond, but she’s strong and resourceful, too. How many people could survive what she did? I enjoyed our work together . . . too much, perhaps. I would find myself watching her, the slope of her chin when she studied a specimen, the way she curled a strand of hair around her finger while she pondered a complex problem. I had never met anyone like her, and she struck me as brilliant, fascinating and new.”

Whereas Rose was familiar, safe, unexciting. Yes, I understand how it happens. It’s not really my business, but I can’t help asking, “Did you—”

“No. But it wasn’t for want of desire. It was for lack of opportunity and excess of work. Rose saw the height of it. Ev lost many friends to the Morgut. That day, grief overcame her, and I tried to comfort her. But in my heart, I wanted more.”

So I was right about that part, but . . . so was Rose.

“Saul, I’m so sorry.”

“Men can be very stupid,” he says bitterly. “We cease to value what we have until it’s gone, and only then do we realize the gold we glimpsed in distant hills paled as dross compared to treasure we had in hand.”

“She loved you.” It’s a thin attempt at comfort because I’m angry. Things shouldn’t have ended like this. He should have run after her and begged for her forgiveness.

“She wouldn’t have been here but for me. I should have made her stay on Lachion.”

There’s nothing I can say to that, except: “I don’t see how you could make her do anything. She was a grown woman.”

“Perhaps you’re right. Mary knows, she did as she wished without regard for my opinions. When I said I was leaving again, she wept. I could never stand her tears since she was always so fierce in other ways.”

That offers a sweet glimpse of how they were together. I remember how Mair spoke in her journal of Rose fighting for him when the Lachion men challenged his beliefs. What does he believe now?

“How long were you together?”

I see him thinking back over the years. Memories sit heavily on him, pleasure and comfort now denied. “Twentyfive turns, but I knew her longer.”

His broken aspect defeats the kernel of anger in me. I can’t hold on to righteous indignation in the face of such obvious torment. Pushing away from the counter, I cross to him and put a hand on his shoulder. His muscles feel heavy and solid beneath my hand, evidence of a childhood on a high-G world.

Saul turns into my arms, much as Evelyn must have. The irony doesn’t escape me. For endless moments, I hold him and feel fresh grief shaking through him in a silent storm. At length he steps back, and I find that his eyes are dry. Too many tears to shed.

“What will you do now?”

“I think you’d better leave me, Jax. I’d like to say good-bye to her.” There’s such awful composure in his face. I would feel easier if he screamed or raged.

As LC, I make a decision. “I’ll go, but I’m setting the AI on watch.”

“You think I’d do myself harm?” An ugly smile twists his mouth. “Then you don’t know me. You see . . . I deserve to suffer.”

In his eyes I see he believes he does. Nevertheless, I keep my promise with instructions to the AI once I leave med bay. From there, I pick my way to the exit ramp, negotiating bits of debris. It’s going to take days to get us in the air again, assuming we have anyone left on board who knows anything about repair. The crew from the Dauntless and the Sweet Sensation may have to pitch in.

I come across Evelyn sitting just outside the ship in a pool of sunlight. Here on Venice Minor, the days are long and bright, the sky impossibly blue overhead. On another part of the world, a dreadnaught rain will be falling.

“He hates me now,” she says without looking up. “I cost him everything he loved.”

I wish I didn’t feel so much sympathy for her. She didn’t set out to come between Doc and Rose, but there’s no doubt in my mind that she adores him. I suspect she even tried to keep her distance. She’s no temptress. With her plain face, she would doubtless consider the idea laughable.

“You can’t take the blame for this. Give him some time. I’m sure he’ll realize it’s not your fault. He’s too logical for it to be otherwise.”

She turns her face up toward me, younger in this golden light. Like me, she is a sole survivor, and that leaves a mark. Even now, she is searching for reasons why she’s still alive, wondering at her own purpose.

“Do you think so?”

“But you can’t push him,” I warn. “It may be hard, but I think you have to wait for him to come to you, and there’s no telling how long that will take.”

She eases to her feet. “I’m patient. I have time, and there’s a lot to do. How are you feeling, by the way?”

I shrug. “So far, so good.”

Best not to think about all the things that could go wrong, the way all that technology could run amok inside my body. Fear could paralyze me if I let it.

“Advise me of any changes. And don’t forget I need to check you out next week.”

Her swift shift amuses me. She’s too much the scientist to wallow long in her emotions, however powerful they may be. I do wonder if the same is true for Doc.

With a wave, I pass from the hangar along the path that leads to the gardens. Clansmen greet me with sharp salutes, most of them filthy, charred, and worse for the wear, but they’re still here. They’re still with us, Lachion tried and Lachion true. There’s a certain poetry in their battle-stained faces, a refusal to bow before impossible odds. I can only take heart in their resolve.

The grounds are as lovely as when Ramona held us hostage here. A manicured lawn abuts an alabaster wall, wreathed in scarlet and fuchsia blossoms. A tree with purple flowers grows beside the villa, casting twilight shadows on the balcony where I once stood, the scent of peaches wafting on a warm wind. Vel’s shadow stands with me there.

Nostalgia sweeps over me. I have my own losses to weather.