Page 5 of The Last Hope
“I’m fine,” I interject and force my leg into one of the slack holes.
Mykal tenses, boiling hot. He bows toward me, putting a callused palm on the ceiling. “Then tell me you aren’t dyin’ right in front of me.”
They can sense when I lie.
I fight back tears. Stomping on emotion. But I’m afraid. I’m angry. I’m wading in despair. I’m so many things at once, and all I want to be is at peace with them. And it’s over.
It’s over for me.
I run the heel of my palm beneath my watering eyes. Shivering.
Mykal steps forward. “Court—”
“I’m not dying,” I retort.
A burning tear scalds his cheek. He wipes it roughly away. “My pa is rollin’ in his grave, the one that I dug, just hearing the boy that I’ve been lovinglieto my crooked-nosed face.”
My chest tightens in a different kind of agony, and I struggle to step into my slacks. Teeth chattering and clanking. Hands vibrating.
“How are you cold?” Franny questions.
“I have a fever.”
“A what?” Mykal asks.
I don’t answer. Gently, I lift the hem of my slacks to my waist. The fabric brushes harshly against my inflamed wound. I inhale a sharp breath. Blood rushes out of my head. Light bursts in my vision. Faint, I start to slide down the wall.
Mykal instantly catches me beneath my arm and supports me upright.
I place my hand to his chest. And I try to push him back.
His hurt flares in me. “What are you doin’?” He sways slightly, even with my weak force. Clearly he’s depleted too. More than I’ve ever seen him.
Mykal.
I have to hang on to his shoulder to stand. He lets me, and he brushes my dark hair out of my lashes with an aggressive hand. Rarely gentle, on any occasion.
Our eyes meet.
“I’m fine,” I protest.
“You know you’re not,” Mykal growls. “I know you’re not. Franny knows. We all damned wellknow.So stop pushing me away, Court.”
I suck in emotion, but water pricks my eyes. I shudder. “You don’t deserve to feel what I feel. Like Franny said, you both deserve a better ending—”
“We,” Franny spits back. “I saidwe.That includes you.”
I hang my head. “Just let me die,” I mumble.
Mykal’s chest rises and falls heavily, and his palm encases my jaw, clasping my face. “What was that?” he asks.
But Mykal can read my lips from any distance, anyplace, after doing it so often at StarDust. They both can.
He knows what I said.
Franny screams at the locked hatch, “Help us!Anybodyout there!! Please,gods, help!”
No one has been able to hear our pleas. We don’t know where theRomuluscrew took our friends from theSagastarcraft. Including my older brother.
