Page 46 of Shadows of Stardust

I reach across the table to lay my hand over Roslyn’s. If we’re not going to speak, the very least we can do is show a bit of physical affection.

But she’s quicker, pulling away and standing to clear her plate, taking mine too, even though I’m nowhere near finished.

As she goes, I can’t ignore the heavy weight in the bottom of my gut, the sinking certainty that our days here are already numbered, that the only bit of hope I’ve had in months of getting my life back is going to vanish just as quickly as it appeared.

Roslyn and I are in a competition for who is more hopeless at faking a relationship, and right now it’s a dead tie for winner.

Two days.

It’s been two days of this.

Two days of monosyllabic conversations and thinly veiled contempt. Two days of futile attempts at pretending this is anything other than a hostage situation.

Nothing I’ve done has broken through Roslyn’s ice. Nothing has convinced her to give me even an inch. It’s clear she’s not going to trust me. Whatever I say or do, her mind’s made up that I’m more of a risk than a potential asset in achieving what she came here for.

At this point, I’m just waiting for the curtain call. I’m waiting for Marva to appear from the shadows she likes to frequent and call it all off, let me know there’s no pardon waiting for me, escort Roslyn and I to the next ship off this rock.

With nothing more than those cheerful thoughts for company, I sit on a lounger beneath the shade of a swaying palm at the edge of the beach. Sunshades on, arms folded over my chest, I sit statue-still and pretend to be asleep while monitoring the comings and goings around the beach.

It’s all I can do—people watch and try to keep myself otherwise amused—since myparamouris keeping as much distance as she can.

At least she’s got a friend to help break up the tedium.

Nothing in my research flagged Juni as any kind of threat. As far as I can tell, she’s here for all the standard reasons, withno criminal history and nothing that would suggest a possible conspiracy between the pair.

Not that there would be a damn thing I could do about it without making myself even more of a sideshow here.

I can barely move without running into a camera, and even with the ability to send them out of the way, it still feels too precarious to meddle. Roslyn and I are still directly in production’s crosshairs, and any strange behavior isn’t likely to escape notice.

Strange behavior.

Right.

Because all of this is so very normal.

I spot Roslyn on the beach, chatting with Juni and a Jurvian, and perhaps I should make one more attempt. Perhaps I should get up and go join them, sling an arm around her shoulders like the Jurvian’s got his arm around Juni. Perhaps I shouldtry.

But I can’t find it in me.

I’ve never been on a mission like this.

I’ve never been on a mission where so very little is in my control, where I’ve had to depend so intimately on someone who’d no doubt be satisfied to see me crash and burn.

I’m used to being in control, or at the very least being around other soldiers who I knew would have my back. I’m not used to feeling this… helpless, and between that and the cameras and the certainty that any moment now we’ll be pulled by production and asked to leave, I can’t find the will to give it even one more shot.

That, more than anything, feels like a damning failure.

I’ve never stopped trying. From the day I was transported off the smoking ruins of Revexor when I was barely more than a child, I’ve never stopped trying, never stopped fighting.

And this isn’t going to be the place where I start.

Fates, I’m not going to let this chance go so easily. I’m not going to let one stubborn human stand in my way.

I’ve just started to stand from the lounger and go to Roslyn, when I glance up to see Juni give her a nudge and look pointedly in my direction. The two share a whispered back and forth, and I almost think I can hear Roslyn’s resigned sigh from here.

With those same storm-clouds I’m coming to know so well hovering over her, she stalks across the sand.

“Make room,” she commands with absolutely no preamble when she reaches me, tapping the inside of one of my knees impatiently where I’ve got my legs resting on the lounger.

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