Page 59 of Last of Her Name

“Stars, it feels like I was kicked by a mantibu.” He groans, shoulders curling as he tries to double over, but the straps have him pinned.

“Stay still. Let me see the wound.” I look up at Riyan. “You got a med kit?”

He nods and opens a compartment to rummage inside.

“Your hair isn’t purple anymore,” Pol notes. His voice is a thick whisper. I have to lean in to hear him.

“What, do you miss it?”

“Yes.”

I snort and shake my head. “Well, just try to stay alive, and maybe we’ll dye yours next.”

“You don’t have to look at me like that,” Pol grunts.

“Like what?”

“Like you were right about the Loyalists.”

“Well, Pol, I sort ofwasright. Look, I don’t need you or anyone else to die for me, got it? Enough with the heroics. Save them for Clio, because we are going to get her, after you’re better.”

“Where are we going now?”

“Diamin.”

“Tensor Town?” He tries again to push himself up. “Stars, no! Those people—”

“Riyan says it’s safe.”

He grimaces. “Oh. Well, ifRiyansays so.”

“I do,” says Riyan, approaching with the med kit.

Pol attempts a weak smile. “Hey, buddy.”

Riyan kneels and places a hand on Pol’s shoulder. “They would have killed me if you’d sided with them. I thank you for my life, and from now on, we are as brothers.”

“We … are?”

Rolling my eyes, I take the med kit from Riyan. The tensor then leaves to search for cloths to cool Pol’s face.

“Brothers?” Pol whispers to me. “What’s that mean?”

“I guess it means you’re an honorary tensor.” I grin and carefully open his shirt.

There are pain patches inside the kit. I press one to his chest, and take the opportunity to inspect his wound, peeling back the bandage Dr. Luka applied. The hole isn’t large, no bigger than the tip of my finger. The gun Zhar used was an efficient little machine, compressing Prismic energy into a narrow but powerful bolt. The skin around the entry wound is red and ugly, purpling over his ribs in large bruises. But the real danger is internal, and I have no idea what to do about that beyond basic first aid. I hope it’s not infected. Just in case, I find an antibiotic patch and stick that on him as well. Pol watches silently, but I can tell he’s hiding the extent of his pain. Sweat beads his face, and his breathing is jagged. My own chest hurts just listening to him inhale.

“So,” Pol says, in a softer tone. “Did you have a funeral for me?”

“What?”

“When you thought I was dead.”

“I barely thought of you at all.” Stars, he better never find out how much I sobbed, or he’ll never let me live it down. “I had my hands full with Zhar. She’s worse than you know.”

I tell him about the days he missed, about the hologram palace and the missing Firebird and that Zhar is married to the direktor Eminent. His eyes widen at that.

“Do you think our parents knew?”