Page 66 of Still the Sun

I hit his leg. Not hard, just enough to protest. Is it bad to smack a god? Not that I believe he is ...

Heartwood takes my hand. Holds it firmly in his own. “You need to rest. You can sleep in my room.”

“But—”

“I don’t mind.” He leans forward, filling my nose with scents of earth and sage. “I will tell you more later.” He rises to his feet and starts for the stairs. “And Pelnophe? You didn’t have to intoxicate me. I would have told you, regardless.” He must misread my face, because his expression darkens. “Do you fear me now?” His voice registers barely more than a slip of mist.

“No,” I admit, both to him and myself. “I don’t.”

Andthatis what concerns me.

“Ihadto!” I bark at Heartwood, gesturing to the gutted corpse of Machine Two. “It was wrong! How many times do I have to say it?”

Moseus looms, silent as a shadow, across the room, but Heartwood looks ready to rip his braid out. “That is not a reason. It was functional!”

“But it wasn’t!” I counter, kicking a wrench. “Itlookedfunctional, but it wasn’t.”

“You’ve failed to explainhow.”

“I just ...” Anger boils so hot in me it’s giving me indigestion. “It’s justwrong. I feel it in my bones. I meditated like Moseus said, and it just ... isn’t right. I can fix it. I’m sure I can.”

“But without a logical explanation—”

“Andifit doesn’t work, I’ll put it back how it was.”

Heartwood shakes his head, color rising in his pale cheeks. “That will set us backdays.”

“What the hell is a ‘day’? Stop using that word!”

He flings his hands out. “It doesn’t matter. Moseus and I are in agreement—”

“AndI’mthe engineer.” I strike my chest hard enough to hurt. “It won’t operate the way it’s supposed to unless I reverse all this.” I gesture to the bits and pieces strewn between us.

Heartwood seethes. “You are young, and you are foolish.”

My anger burns white. “All right, omnipotent one,youcan do whatever you want with it.” I kick several springs out of my way.

He growls. “What are you doing?”

“Kiss my mortal ass, Heartwood.” I gesture crudely to him and storm toward the stairs.

“You don’t know what it could do!” he barks.

I whirl toward him. “You’d better walk before I show you whatIcan do.”

Throwing his hands into the air, Heartwood storms off, but I reach the base of the stairs before he reaches his room. All the while Moseus “keeps the peace” in his own stupid, tranquil way.

“I came to apologize,” Heartwood says.

I sit on the protrusion from the top tier of the tower, looking up at the late sun. The mists have begun to gather across the Brume Mountains. I don’t answer. It’s childish of me, but I don’t.

A full minute passes. He sighs. “I hate it when you sit out here.”

Glad he can’t see my smirk, I reply, “I know.”

An oddly comfortable silence filters between us. After several minutes, Heartwood climbs out on the protrusion and sits behind me, letting his legs dangle over the curved edge as mine do. Unspoken apologies weave between us until we both breathe a littleeasier. I allow him to coax me inside when that gentle, one-note tone announces oncoming fog.

Seven cycles later, he kisses me in the height of the mists.

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