Page 38 of Shadows of Stardust

“Unless there’s something more you wanted to demand?”

Roslyn’s lips press into a thin line, and it makes me wonder exactly what type of service she was in. Whatever she was doing with the Sol Alliance, it must not have been spycraft, because I’m not sure I’ve ever met a soldier less able to keep her thoughts hidden.

Emotions flicker across her face in rapid succession, calculations I can’t even begin to parse out as her gaze bounces from me to Marva and then back again.

That terrible hope in the bottom of my soul sparks back to life.

Despite her flippant offer, there’s still something keeping Roslyn on this planet, something important enough for her to risk staying, risk breaking out into Eritin’s off-limits wilderness.

Perhaps important enough to risk agreeing to this farce, risk trusting me.

“No,” Roslyn says finally, voice hoarse. “No. That should do it.”

“Excellent.” Marva leans back in her chair and studies her for a moment. “Stay and film together, give a good performance and make it to the Choosing, and the credits will be wired into your account.” She looks at me. “Same goes for you. If the two of you pull this off, consider your rank restored.”

Impossible promises, nearly too good to be believed.

But there’s something in the hard set of Marva’s expression, something in the authoritative tenor of her voice that makes me want to believe her.

At worst, I’ll wind up right back where I am now, still on this cursed assignment and no closer to regaining my rank.

At best…

I make myself abandon the thought. Hope still tastes too much like ash on my tongue for me to put much faith in it, even when my eyes fall to the ring Marva’s begun fiddling idly with asshe sizes us up. A thick band of jet black stone, inlaid at the top with a crest that looks almost like—

“Alright,” Marva says, standing and gesturing toward the door. “Off with you, then. Zandrel, we’ll have your things brought from the barracks to the bungalow shortly.”

“Hold on,” Roslyn says, still firmly in her seat. “When you say ‘bungalow’, I assume you mean—”

“Your bungalow,” Marva says, all business. “We’re all full up on accommodations, and couples who’ve committed to each other usually start cohabitating anyway. Since the two of you are already head over heels for each other, I don’t see any reason not to skip right to that step.”

She gives both of us a look as she says that last bit, and the implication isn’t lost on me.

Roslyn sets her jaw, and I can almost hear the thousand or so arguments she might make flipping through her mind.

But she doesn’t offer a single one, nodding slowly as she stands. “Right. I suppose… I suppose that makes sense.”

Marva’s gaze narrows. “All our procedures and requirements for contestant safety are still in place, and the bungalow is equipped with an alarm to sound if there’s any reason you don’t feel safe.”

Roslyn nods again, though some emotion clouds her expression. It looks very much like fear, and curdles sourly in the bottom of my gut.

I’m not a danger to Roslyn.

Certainly, I may be standing in the way of whatever plan she’s trying to carry out here on Eritin, but surely she knows I wouldn’t hurt her. Surely she knows she doesn’t have to worry about violence from me, that I have no intention of…

What am I thinking?

Of course she doesn’t know that.

Of course she’d have no reason to believe I pose anythingbutthreat to her.

That curdled discomfort grows even more caustic, cramping into something that feels a lot like guilt.

What I have to be guilty for, I don’t know.

It was Roslyn who was about to break out of here tonight, violating not only the show’s security protocols, but Seventh Sector regulations protecting Eritin II. Ihelpedher. I gave us both something to fight for. Rewards for our time here, if we manage to make it through filming.

I’m not in the wrong.

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