These Broken Stars
Amie Kaufman, Meagan Spooner
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It's a night like any other on board the Icarus. Then, catastrophe strikes: the massive luxury spaceliner is yanked out of hyperspace and plummets into the nearest planet. Lilac LaRoux and Tarver Merendsen survive. And they seem to be alone.
Lilac is the daughter of the richest man in the universe. Tarver comes from nothing, a young war hero who learned long ago that girls like Lilac are more trouble than they're worth. But with only each other to rely on, Lilac and Tarver must work together, making a tortuous journey across the eerie, deserted terrain to seek help.
the words in the darkness. I left her there to die. I think of Elana, her mindless devotion to chasing the trends I set. I think of Swann, the ragged edge to her voice as she tried to fight her way back through the crowd to get to me as the Icarus began to break apart. Did they find escape pods that worked? Or did Swann spend too long trying to find me in the midst of the crowds, and go down in flames with my father’s ship? It isn’t the first time someone’s death has been my fault, but that
can’t. I want to press her, ask her what she’s seen, but then she shakes her head. “I haven’t seen anything since the valley, and your parents’ house. You did, though. You called me all sorts of different people. I never realized how nice it was when you just called me Lilac.” “Lilac?” I smooth down her hair again as she settles closer. I don’t want her to move. “I’d never be so familiar, Miss LaRoux. It would be highly inappropriate. I know my place, and apparently it’s swearing up a storm at
almost miss what he says next: “I’m pretty sure if I’d tried to kiss you while dragging you through the forest that first day, you would’ve thrown one of those ridiculous shoes at my head.” I expect him to put up a fight when morning arrives and I suggest, a little wistfully, that we take a rest day. I don’t want to leave our bed, don’t want to find clothes, don’t want to be apart from him. The way he looks at me now is so different. Clear, unguarded, warm. I didn’t even know there’d been a
had to slap that poor guy in the face, and now she’s laughing. “If you’re jealous, get your tuxedo of the week to take you,” I snap. Leaving her and Swann staring after me, I aim for the elevator. There’s a pair of techhead guys there already in their flashing, circuit-laden suits, waiting for the doors to close. When I sweep inside, one of them whispers to the other, and muttering something like an apology, they skitter out and leave me alone. In the sound of the doors rushing closed, my mind
club at the aft end of the ship. I walk right through her. My stomach lurches as though I’m in for a bout of space–sickness. I notice I’m not the only one looking uncomfortable—there are other faces in the crowd turning pale as well. I can’t be spacesick. I’ve been shunted around the universe on ships so badly tuned you could barely hear yourself over the chugging, and all that time I kept my insides on the inside. I must have overdone it on the sparring mats. I can feel the metal gangway