I thought it was pretty good for an on-the-spot speech, but Drom’s face doesn’t change. She rubs her fingers over her scar again.

“Easy for you to say; you’re drunk all the time.”

“That’s not—” I pause, let out a breath. “I’m not drunk all the time.” She fixes me with an irritated look, and I brush hair out of my face, avoiding her eyes. “Look, this shit isn’t easy for me. I’ve never been a fighter. Not like—” Not like you, I almost say, but that’s not going to help with the conversation we’re having right now. “—like Corvus. I need to take the edge off to get through moments like this.”

“So why the hell are you trying to stop me from doing the same?”

I stare at her as she holds out a hand for the bottle. It’s difficult to wrangle my thoughts into something logical, try to find the words to explain why the idea of her imitating me—growing up to be like me—makes me feel sick to my stomach. Because she is still growing up, as hard as it is to remember sometimes. She may be tough as nails, but she’s still barely nineteen, too young to drink legally on Gaia, though a handful of years older than when I started. She’s still deciding who she is. It took me until now to realize that she’s taking cues from people like me.

And I don’t want her to deal with the same shit I deal with. I don’t want to look at her one day, see my flaws reflected back at me, and learn to hate her for it. Maybe like Momma did with me. Because I’m finally starting to realize that maybe that’s what she was trying to tell me during our conversation about why I couldn’t be captain. Not that she hated me because I was her failure, but that I reminded her of all the most terrible parts of herself.

I made some of the worst decisions of my life trying to be like Momma. If Drom does the same in imitation of me, the cycle will go on and on, causing more pain for everyone involved. But as Corvus has reminded me, it’s not too late for me to change. I get to choose who I want to be.

“Damn it,” I mutter, my stomach already sinking at the mere thought of what I have to do. “I really hate this responsible-older-sibling bullshit.” Drom raises her eyebrows at me, taken aback by the sudden turn in the conversation. “Why couldn’t you all just take after Corvus, huh? He’s clearly the smart one.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”