It didn’t occur to me until now that it’s probably the end for the two of us. There’s little reason for us to ever come face-to-face again. For a moment I have a mad desire to run back into the room and kiss her, without giving a single damn for anyone who’s watching—but the moment passes. She’d only be pissed at me for making her look bad in front of the council, and anyway, I’ll probably get shot if I try to go back in there.

“So that’s it, I guess,” I say, and glance around at my siblings. Drom looks exhausted. But Corvus, even with guns pointed our way, looks more relaxed than I’ve seen him since he returned to the family. He doesn’t look happy, per se—there’s still no sign of his old smile—but he looks as though a weight’s been lifted off his shoulders. He nods at me and says nothing.

The peacekeepers rush us back to the ship, making only a brief stop at the customs office on the way out. A whole lot of words are exchanged that I can barely keep up with, but I get the gist of it: We’re no longer welcome on Nibiru. Ever. Not even Drom, who’s being stripped of her citizenship. I didn’t know that was possible, but I guess we’re a special case.

“Seems fair,” I mutter, glancing over at her to see if she’s upset about the new development. But she shrugs, looking completely unsurprised.

“Never liked this place much anyway,” she says loudly, for the benefit of the customs agents.

The peacekeepers leave us on the dock, but they hover near the customs checkpoint, their eyes still on us. We make our slow way toward the ship. Despite Drom’s words, she doesn’t appear in a rush to say goodbye to Nibiru for the last time.

I lag behind the rest of my siblings, taking deep breaths of the cool, salty air, drinking in the smell and the sight of the ocean stretched out all around us. In the distance, a slim hoverboat carves across the water, kicking up a spray of mist; back on the island, I still hear the cries of the street vendors advertising their fresh fish and other goods. I wish I had stopped to taste a pastry one last time.

That thought, of all things, sends a pang of heartbreak through me. I stop where I am, sucking in a shaky breath, and try not to think about childhood memories spent drifting on the water, or roasting fish over the fire with my siblings, or sharing that pastry with Shey a few hours ago.