I lag behind the rest of my family, drinking it all in, my chest heavy as I think of how close I came to destroying it all. I never should have taken this job in the first place. I’ll carry the shame of it for the rest of my life—but maybe today we can make up for it, at least partially. If all goes well, we can save not only this planet, but the citizens of Gaia as well.

I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I don’t notice Shey has stopped until I run right into her. I catch her by the shoulder as she stumbles. For a moment I think all the noise and sun has made her dizzy.

“All these people…” she murmurs, and I know that her thoughts have followed the same path mine did. Her mother ordered this entire planet dead, and Shey must feel the weight of that as much as I do. Trying to stifle my own guilt, I squeeze an arm around her shoulders and pull her along down the street.

“Right,” I say, instilling my voice with as much false cheer as I can manage despite my own dark mood. “I completely forgot to give you the Nibiran tour! This is Vil Hava, Isle of Flowers, seat of the council.”

“Scorpia,” Shey says crossly, but I carry on.

“Honestly, not the best vacation spot, but it is what it is. Maybe one day I’ll take you to Kitaya—now that’s a view, and less crowded. But this place does have its perks. Like…” I crane my head and pull Shey closer to the side of the street and a food vendor there. When the vendor turns the other way to shout about her wares, I dart in and steal one of the pastries off her booth. By the time she turns around, it’s already tucked into one of the hidden pockets in my robe’s sleeve, and I give her a grin and a wave.

“Did you just—” Shey protests, as I steer us away.

“Of course not.” Once we’re out of the vendor’s sight, I pull out the pastry and split it in half. “Anyway, as I was saying. This is one of the island’s specialties. Fish pastries. Usually, I prefer Devan food. But this… this is an exception.” I stuff half of the salty-and-sweet treat into my mouth in two big bites and offer the rest to her, wiggling it tantalizingly under her nose when she doesn’t take it immediately. She eyes me, her nose wrinkled, though I know the smell of curried fish and fresh-baked dough must be making her mouth water.

“I’m not going to eat stolen goods,” she says.