“There was some kind of malfunction as we entered atmosphere,” I say. “Autopilot failed, but it was too late to turn back. I had to land by myself.” I meet her eyes and raise my chin. Messy or not, I managed the landing on my own, and that’s nothing to scoff at.

Momma continues to scrutinize me. I’ve gotten all too used to that critical look over the last three years. Before that, she wasn’t quite so harsh on me. We never really understood each other, but she mostly ignored me. On rare occasions, I could even make her laugh. That changed after Corvus left. All of a sudden she was watching me all the time, always ready to criticize. “You’re the oldest now. You have to do better. You have to stop thinking of only yourself.” Eventually I realized she was expecting me to step into Corvus’s role in the family. It had never occurred to me until then that I might want to be in charge myself. Ever since, I’ve been trying to live up to the impossible task of filling his shoes.

As the silence thickens and my anxiety grows, my whiskey-loosed tongue fights its way free of my better judgment.

“Guess you should’ve listened to Lyre about getting the new parts back on Deva.”

My mother’s hand cracks across my face before I see it moving. I reel back, slipping on spilled liquor, and barely keep my feet.

“Don’t lie to me, girl,” she says. “You think I can’t tell when you’ve been drinking? You’re lucky you didn’t get us all killed.”

I press a hand to my stinging cheek and breathe deeply. It was stupid to think I could fool her, but I couldn’t help but try.

“You should be thanking me. I got us here in one piece. Pretty damn good, given the situation, if I do say so myself.”

My mother grimaces. As I let my hand drop to my side, I search her expression for some sign of emotion. Surely she should feel something after seeing the face of her eldest son for the first time in three years… and surely, not knowing I watched the transmission, she’ll at least tell me that he’s still alive. But Momma is silent, staring down at the remains of my whiskey bottle with an expression like stone.

“Something you want to say?” I prompt, and she glances up at me.

“Cargo bay in ten minutes,” she says. “Family meeting.”

Without waiting for a response, she turns her back and heads for the door.