Page 10 of Shadows of Stardust

“Ros,” I say with an unlikely smile of my own. “You can call me Ros.”

“Ros. I like it.” She hooks her arm through mine as we hurry to catch up to the rest of the group.

A few minutes later, Juni gives me a parting wave as she’s assigned to a bungalow, and I follow the thinning crowd of contestants toward the few remaining unoccupied dwellings left on the beach.

“This is you,” a producer tells me.

She’s Vas-Greshiran, with deeply tanned skin and a stunning array of silver tattoos covering her bare arms. Her black hair hangs loose and wavy around her shoulders, and shewatches with expectant silver eyes as I get my first look at where I’ll be staying here on Eritin II.

The bungalow is… adorable.

There’s really no other word for it.

Squat and cozy, with intricately woven palm fronds wrapped around its exterior like a living art piece and an expansive front porch with breathtaking views of the ocean, I can’t stop myself from taking an unconscious step forward.

I’ve never seen a place like this in person, much less had the opportunity to stay in one. My hand twitches toward the door, and I offer a brief thank you to the producer as I climb the front steps.

Only to glance back and find her following right behind me.

“I’m uh, alright,” I say awkwardly. “I can find my way.”

“Oh, I know,” she chirps. “But I’ve got instructions to see you in and explain a couple of things.”

I bristle a little at that. Sure, humans haven’t been around the intergalactic block for long, but I’m more than able to open a door for myself and figure out whatever kind of tech they’ve got in this place.

“Come on,” the producer says. “And I’m Sella, by the way.”

With nothing to do but follow as Sella walks up the short set of stairs to the front door, I swallow my protest and climb up after her.

The inside of the bungalow is just as beautiful as the outside.

Open, airy, and bigger than it looks from the front, the first room we walk into is a combined kitchen and lounge space bathed in light from the big window overlooking the beach.

The kitchen is outfitted with machines that look somewhat similar to the ones I used on ships and at bases while enlisted with the Sol Alliance, designed to whip up food and beverages with the push of a button. There’s no dining table, but thekitchen features a long island counter with a few stools pushed up against it.

The living space is sunken down a step from the kitchen and furnished with low, cozy loungers piled high with pillows. Painted and decorated with tans and blues and deep greens, the whole space perfectly complements the beach and jungle outside.

“Follow me,” Sella calls over her shoulder as she passes an open door that leads into a small half-bath and steps through another into the bedroom. A door at the side of this second room reveals another, bigger bathroom with a wide tub and a glassed-in shower.

A giant, canopied bed more luxurious by a factor of ten than anywhere I’ve ever had the pleasure of sleeping takes up the middle of the room. My travel-weary muscles ache to flop down and test it out for myself.

“What do you think?”

I look over at Sella, about to tell her I’m fine, I’ve got it from here, when something else catches my attention.

It takes me a few seconds to realize what I’m looking at.

Clothes. Lots of them.

Hung up on a long rack on the far side of the room, there are dresses and bathing suits, skirts and pants and tops. I make my way over and run my fingers along the rich fabrics.

“What are these?” I ask.

“They’re for you!”

I turn to find Sella watching me with a wide smile. My gut twists.

“Why?”

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