Page 151 of Shadows of Stardust

Roslyn

Late in the evening—after Zan has put Astrid to bed and I’ve just finished bathing—I find my husband sprawled across one of the comfortable loungers on our front terrace.

The wide, tiled balcony overlooks a sweeping valley that’s green now in the height of summer, but cycles through a breathtaking range of color and beauty and life as the seasons change here on Terra Spei.

The stories about this place being like Earth weren’t exaggerated in the slightest.

It’ll never be quite the same, but the sense of belonging I felt when Zan and I first arrived here is permanently etched into my bones. Like some molecular part of me could feel it, could recognize it as safety, it’s never faded even all these years later. With each passing day, it grows and makes me more certain that this path was the right one.

When he sees me approaching, Zan shifts to make a spot for me between his thick thighs and holds out a hand to help me settle against him. Back pressed to his chest, head resting against his shoulder, his arms wrapped around me in a steady, familiar hold, I close my eyes and breathe the fresh evening air deep into my lungs.

Zan curls a hand over my belly. “How are you feeling?”

“Good. This one’s giving me a lot less trouble than Astrid did.”

We both laugh softly. Our tiny tornado of a daughter has been running us ragged from the moment she was conceived.

Zan and I didn’t even know it would be possible. We’d hoped, and tried, and when I’d found out I was carrying her in the midst of some truly horrific early pregnancy symptoms, it was just one more surreal, incredible part of this journey we’ve been on.

And now, with another on the way, maybe I’m finally beginning to understand that I’ll never stop being surprised by it, in awe of it, forever humbled by it.

“I got a call from work today.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask, tucking myself closer against him. “What about?”

“My last trip out before this little one arrives,” Zan says softly, stroking his hand over my belly. “A short one this time, just a couple of weeks to firm up a new intake and training protocol in the Marris system, and then I’ll be back here for at least a year before they need me back out in the field.”

“I’m sure Astrid and I can hold down the fort while you’re gone.”

It never gets easier, seeing Zandrel off, but knowing how much of a difference he’s making tempers at least a little of the sting.

“Plus,” I add, glancing up with a smirk. “I know you’ve recruited at least half the village to smother me with kindness while you’re gone.”

“Guilty as charged,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple.

The community here on Terra Spei is incredible. Tight-knit, and a little stifling at times—especially when they’ve got a former Aux mercenary asking favors—but I know I’ll be in good hands here while he’s away. The friends we’ve made and the vibrant tapestry of community growing larger each day are the second family I never knew I needed.

Savvie and Arrik even came to visit once, just after Astrid was born, with their own son in tow. I speak to my sister at least once a week, and while I know I’ll never be able to convince them to make the move permanently, just having her in my life at all is a gift.

Other friends, too, have come to stay with us and enjoy the temperate Terra Spei climate. Friends from Zan’s years in the Aux, members of my old Sol Alliance squadron, Juni and her three spouses.

We even agreed to let the crew from Mate Match come and film a follow-up segment a few months after we landed here, with Marva herself leading the production.

All for a pretty penny, of course, some literal and metaphorical seed money to help get my greenhouse off the ground.

That brief brush with fame has mostly died down after all this time, and I can’t say I’ll miss it in the slightest.

I run a small greenhouse and plant nursery in the center of town. It’s mostly stocked with species of plants found here on Terra Spei, but also a handful of specimens from Earth—carefully vetted to ensure they wouldn’t interfere with the native ecosystem, and painstakingly cultivated over the last few years. They’re flowers, mostly—peonies and marigolds and lilies and other bright blooms—but also a few varieties of fruit-producing trees and bushes.

And even with all the time that’s passed, there’s still something miraculous about biting into a sweet, fresh honeycrisp apple on an autumn day on Terra Spei. The weight of the distance those seeds had to travel, all the light-years between me and the homeworld I’ll never see again, sits on my shoulders as both grief and blessing, with a bittersweetness I suspect will never lose its bite.

It’s a balancing act, living with the good and the bad. With the grief of the past and our hopes for the future.

But here, now, wrapped in my husband’s arms with the Terra Spei stars just starting to show in the evening sky, I’ll never doubt for a moment that it’s worth it.

Right before we head to bed, Zan and I stop by Astrid’s room.

Cracking the door, I find her curled up in the bed we only just converted from her crib a few short weeks ago. Her dark curls spill across the pillow and her breathing is deep and even. Just before I close the door, my eyes catch on the gentle glow from the ceiling.

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