Page 121 of Shadows of Stardust

It’s magnificent.

I can’t remember the last time I saw a sunrise. Really saw it.

Stuck on a ship with nothing but the endless black of deep space to greet the morning, or too focused on the mission at hand to notice when night bled into day, I wonder idly just how many I’ve missed. How much beauty has passed me by because I never thought to slow down and savor it?

Ros and I sit and watch in silence long enough for that pink to brighten, to become gold and orange as dawn prepares to break, before she speaks again.

“I’m still in.”

I startle slightly, readjusting my hold on her. “What?”

“I’m in. For this. All of it. You helped me find Savvie. Now I’ll help you get your life back.”

The words should settle some of the turmoil inside me. They should be the reassurance I need.

Instead, all that churning uncertainty only grows more violent.

This is going to end. I know this is going to end. It’s had an expiration date on it from the beginning, so it’s no surprise that Roslyn and I will part ways in a few short days.

“We don’t have to think about that right now.”

Ros lets out a soft laugh. “Oh, believe me, I’d rather think about that than what happened yesterday.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No? Or… maybe? I don’t know. How much of what Savvie and I said to each other did you hear?”

I let out a low, thoughtful hum. “Enough. And I saw her face when we arrived. I’m guessing she wasn’t thrilled you found her?”

“No. She wasn’t.” Ros falls silent for a few heartbeats, eyes still fixed on the horizon.

I tighten my hold on her, follow her gaze. We sit and watch the sun come up, its first rays golden and blazing when they reach us, gilding us both in the new day.

“She doesn’t want to leave,” Ros says finally. “She’s… she’s staying here.”

In halting, grief-thickened words, she tells me what happened.

Savannah’s struggles on Severin, the violence which caused her to flee with the emerald-scaled male, Arrik. The way she thought she was safer without letting Roslyn know where she’d gone.

That last bit raises my hackles, and a small, disgruntled grunt slips out before I can stop it.

“I hardly even blame her,” Roslyn murmurs, cutting short the protest I was about to make. “I’m sure she was just doing what she thought she had to.”

I want to argue the point, to remind Roslyn of everything she did for her sister, everything she sacrificed, but I’m not sure it’s my place. Not now, when the wound’s so fresh.

When she finishes her story, we fall silent again.

She leans into me. I hold her closer.

“Has it ever felt worth it to you, serving with the Aux?” Roslyn asks eventually. “And feel free to tell me to fuck off if that’s not something I should ask. I know you didn’t wind up there by choice.”

I’m uncertain where the shift in conversation came from, but I stroke a reassuring hand up and down her bicep as I consider the question.

“At times, yes. It has. It might not be the best life I could have hoped for, but I certainly could have ended up with worse.”

Roslyn lets out a soft chuckle, but there’s no humor in it. “That’s… pragmatic.”

I shrug. “Pragmatism’s served me well.”

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