Page 23 of Shadows of Stardust

I keep my face carefully blank, ignoring the lascivious tilt of his smile and the suggestion in his tone.

It’s the same look that’s been on more than a few of the crew members’ faces these past two days. A fascination, he calls it, a novelty, a challenge, an interest in Roslyn because she’s new and different, or because she’s small and soft and holds some sort of appeal.

Not because of who she is, of course, or what threat she might pose, for that they couldn’t care less.

“Unless there’s another reason you were watching her, or saw fit to intervene? Some misbehavior on her part that would warrant—”

“There wasn’t. I saw her interaction with the Vas-Greshiran and stepped in. That’s all.”

The lie is easy, as is the decision to keep my suspicions about Roslyn to myself.

Whatever her purpose for being here, it’s not to be fodder for louts like Brivik, or any of the other guards who look at her the same way. If she’s here to commit some crime, she’ll answer for it, but until then she doesn’t need to be the focus of any more scrutiny from this lot.

Brivik frowns at the interruption, but his expression quickly falls back into the indolent smirk he favors.

“Fine. Then as you were, soldier. Back to putting all those legendary Aux skills to use keeping the contestants in line.”

His smile this time is all mocking insincerity, a disrespect that would see the breath knocked from his lungs and the light from his eyes if we were on my turf instead of his.

But we’re not, and I let the slight graze off the rough plates of my armor as I stand and stare and watch him shift uncomfortably in the silence.

I’m well acquainted with males like this.

Inflated with their own sense of importance, drunk on the power they’ve done nothing to deserve.

Cowards. Always cowards, at their core.

No matter how far they’ve risen or what kind of authority and influence they wield, they’ve got spines made of jelly and less honor than the scum on a rock at the bottom of a fetid pond.

I don’t want him anywhere near Roslyn.

The vehemence of the conviction almost surprises me as it settles itself squarely in the back of my mind.

Brivik, the rest of the guards, I don’t want them near her.

No matter what she’s up to, I’m going to handle it.

Though I might be an obsessive bastard for tailing her, I’ll give her a fair enough chance. She’ll play her hand, or she won’t, and I’ll do what I can in the meantime to run interference and keep them away from her.

The little human with her spine of steel and all those flames in her eyes deserves a worthy adversary. She doesn’t deserve to be an oddity or a spectacle, and she certainly doesn’t deserve to be leered at by the likes of Brivik and his ilk.

Leaving the security building, the cool night air is barely a balm for my frayed temper, for my disgust, for the roiling frustration that tenses every muscle and sets my teeth on edge, vibrating with unspent energy as I make my way down the jungle path leading to staff accommodations.

A sparring session might take the edge off—with Brivik, preferably, if only for the satisfaction of knocking him flat on his arrogant ass—but neither he nor any of the guards seem concerned in the slightest with training.

Besides, it’s late, and I’ve got a full day tomorrow, one I’ll likely spend making sure Roslyn doesn’t get herself into any more trouble.

Back in the barracks, I don’t speak to any of my fellow guards. I hardly even bother to look at them as I fling myself down on my bunk and stare up at the ceiling, trying not to let all my racing thoughts get the better of me.

It’s what got me demoted in the first place, caring about things that were none of my concern and inserting myself where I had no business to.

Not that I regret it. Not for a single moment.

In hindsight, I would have changed the way I went about it, and I’ll absolutely be more careful when I earn back my rank and take another shot, but I don’t regret my decision to call out the Aux’s abhorrent recruiting practices.

I roll over in my bunk, eyes fixed unseeing at the wall, breath rasped from my lungs in a long, tight exhale.

Most nights, I don’t think about it.

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