We all gathered in the field beneath the clock tower. The grass was blue with frost and seemed to glitter with a thousand diamonds even in the evening’s fading light. Everyone was bundled up in their heavy coats and hats and gloves. Though I’d layered myself as best I could, I could still feel the cold straight through my wool stockings. This was why I hated wearing dresses.
“You’ll feel better when we get the heater going,” Koen assured me, hefting the electric device.
“We could have sat with your family,” I said, looking wistfully at the children who huddled around the heaters, warming their hands against the heating elements. We’d left his parents to bicker at the starboard edge of the field. Koen turned to me, one side of his mouth edging up.
“And we could have sat with yours,” he replied. He was right—I hadn’t given a second thought to dropping my father off with Ronen and Hannah and little Alyana not far from the clock tower. Abba had settled among them, his wrinkled face drawn and serious. I winced at the thought.
“Good point,” I said. But the wind still cut through the weave of my dress. I clutched my hands around my shoulders, rubbing them for warmth. “Where are we going, anyway?”
“I told Van and his wife that we’d sit with them.”
At that, I stopped where we stood. Koen glanced over at me, his tangled hair falling into his eyes.
“What?”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I asked, dropping my voice to nothing more than a murmur. “After all, you said that Van’s not the sort of person you want to make angry, and I still haven’t asked Mara about the foxglove, and—”
“Terra!” Koen reached out and took my hand in his. Even through his nubby mittens his fingers felt like ice. “I didn’t mean Van. He’s fine. I meant the people he reports to.”
I thought about the way Van had looked at us in the alleyway, how his green-glass eyes had sliced into me.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. You’re one of us now.”
I felt a sudden flood of warmth from within. I found myself pulled across the field, my hand firmly in Koen’s. We finally reached Van’s little family. And I found myself smiling, too, despite my reservations. Van’s wife, Nina, grinned up at me.
“Hello, Terra,” she said. She was tugging a knit cap over her baby’s red hair. They shared the same round cheeks, but little else. Her black hair cascaded down her shoulders. “Joyous Orbit Day.”
“Joyous Orbit Day,” I returned. For a moment I hovered uncertainly over their little gathering. Koen put the heater down beside theirs and fiddled with the dials.
“Have a seat,” Van said, gesturing with a pointed finger to the frozen ground. I bit the inside of my cheek, but then I pushed my worries away. I was a rebel now—one of them. I sat down beside Koen and let the heater’s glowing coils blow hot breath over me. I showed a shy smile to Nina and Van. They squinted back at me as if my presence among their family was nothing of note.
“You found us,” Van said, turning to Koen, who let out a laugh as he settled in beside me.
“Of course I did.” He reached out his arms and gathered Van’s son in them. It was clear they knew each other well. Koen began to sing “Tsen Brider,” folding down the baby’s fat fingers. The toddler did his best to sing along. He managed to pick up the rhythm of the song, even if his words came out in little more than an incomprehensible babble.
“We should be able to see Eps Eridani F at any minute now,” Van said. Though he seemed to be speaking to all of us, it was Koen he was looking at, watching as the talmid cuddled the baby boy. But soon he glanced up. The dome lights began to flicker off. Overhead, through the honeycomb girders, we could see the sparkling expanse of space. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Koen pass the baby back to Nina. But my gaze was firmly fixed to the glass above. I’d never seen a planet among all those stars before. I couldn’t help but feel a small thrill at the thought of it.
“Hey,” Nina said. A tremble underscored her voice, just fearful enough to pull me out of my excitement. “Look who it is.”
She’d gestured to the other end of the field. A flock of dark-coated guards marched in a scattered line, stopping now and then around the huddled families. At first I couldn’t imagine what was going on. Then Van’s son lifted a pudgy finger and let out a little squeal.
“Capun! Capun!”
Sure enough, there was Captain Wolff, her long hair braided into a silver rope down her back. I watched as she stooped over to shake the hand of every citizen. She chatted easily with them. Still, an ominous silence descended on our strange, cobbled-together little family.
“Here she comes,” Van muttered. We all watched as she drew near, flanked on either side by a guard.
“Talmid Fineberg.” She spoke my name in a tone so sweet it was almost sickening. “The young botanist. Joyous Orbit Day.” She took my hand and shook it much too hard for my liking.
“Joyous Orbit Day,” I replied, shocked by her firm grip. I tried to avoid looking at her scar—focusing on her hairline, her chin, anywhere else. But before I could find a place to rest my eyes, she moved on to Koen.
“And Talmid Maxwell. How goes the clock keeping?”
“Uh,” he stammered. “Fine.”
Captain Wolff bent down to pinch little Corban’s cheeks and to shake Nina’s hand. My gaze strayed, catching a flash of white. It was Silvan Rafferty. He stood at the edge of her party, Aleksandra Wolff beside him. The guard tracked him as one might an animal with an inclination to bolt. But he hardly seemed to notice. In fact, he looked bored. Yet when he saw me staring at him, something behind his gaze warmed. He watched me for a long moment, his eyebrows nearly meeting, turning some new idea over in his mind.
My cheeks burned. I looked away. I felt no affection for him—not after what he’d done to Rachel.
“Good riddance,” Nina said, exhaling hard as the captain’s entourage finally moved on. At the edge of my vision, I saw Aleksandra nudge Silvan with the hilt of her blade. He waited just a moment longer before he turned and trudged away too. “I’m glad that’s over.”
“She didn’t say hello to you,” Koen noted. Van’s lip curled in response.
“Good,” he said, and then he added: “The murderous cow.”
Nina rolled her eyes. Then she leaned back, resting her shoulders against Van’s body. He drew her close. I watched as Corban snuggled into his mother’s arms. They looked like the perfect family. Koen watched them too, frown lines deepening the edges of his mouth. Something clouded up beneath the surface of his expression, stormy and dark. He turned to me.
“Come here,” he said, and when I only stared at him, he scooted forward along the frozen ground until he was right beside me. The outside of his lanky leg graced my thigh. I felt heat rise up across my face, and it sure wasn’t from Koen’s creaky old heater this time. He said it again—“Come here!”—and let out a rickety laugh as he pulled me against him.
My shoulders sank back against his chest. He was so skinny—I could feel his ribs beneath his sweater and coat. His body smelled like cedar and musk and dirt. I could feel Van and Nina watching us. I did my best not to look at them, focusing instead on the orange glow of our heater, looking at my own knees, and then up, at the dark dome and the freckling of stars above.
Koen leaned his chin into the place where my neck met my shoulder. This is what you wanted, I said to myself. My mind reached back to my dreams, where settling into someone’s arms felt just as easy as settling into my bed at night. I ignored the little incongruities—the stuttered, frantic beat of my heart; the way that Koen’s body felt, all knees and elbows, against mine. Here, in his arms, I should have been happier than I’d ever been before. So I closed my eyes and willed it to be true.