Page 48 of Shadows of Stardust

But I’m not about to confide any of that to Roslyn.

“Feats of strength, agility, and skill were a sure way to win a partner. A noble thing, to prove your prowess to your lover.”

“I think I’ll stick to human customs, then.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I say lightly. “If I recall, you’re more than capable of landing a few good hits.”

The remark is meant in jest, but as soon as it leaves me, I know it’s a mistake. Roslyn stiffens, and her next words are brittle and bitter, any trace of humor disappeared.

“Right. Thanks. Like I need the reminder.”

Of course she’d think I’m taunting her, reminding her of her failure. Why would she expect anything else?

“Roslyn,” I say with a sidelong glance at the hovers, but she’s already composed herself.

She slides off the lounger and tosses me a smile that feels more like a threat. “I’m tired. I’m going back to the bungalow for a nap.”

I sit up, too. “Very well, I’ll accompany you to—”

“Oh, I know you will,” she hisses, then stalks off without another word.

I close my eyes for a few long moments, letting the failure wash over me.

It stings worse than I expected.

Perhaps it’s the reminder of Revexor hitting too closely to the old aching wound at the core of me—the one I can’t look at too long, lest it consume me completely.

Perhaps is the constant surveillance, wearing on my nerves.

Perhaps it’s the heat, the producers, the irritation of dealing with a human who hates me, of failing so spectacularly at a mission this important.

Perhaps it’s all of that and more.

But, with nothing else to do, and knowing that anything I say, any meager attempts at trying to pretend this isn’t a slowly unfolding disaster will come to nothing, I stand and follow her to the bungalow.

“So, here’s the thing,” Sella says, and even I can hear the trepidation in her usually cheerful voice. “I’m not sure if it’s thecameras or something I’m doing or what, but we’ve got to figure this thing out.”

“Figure what out?” Roslyn asks, like she’s not as painfully aware of the situation as I am.

“The two of you. Getting back that… spark. Whatever it was that brought you together in the first place.”

We’re just off the beach, standing outside the recording studio where Roslyn and I just gave interviews that likely did more to hurt our case than help it.

“We’re doing our best,” I say, fighting back a cringe.

Everyone here knows our best is a disaster without me giving voice to it.

“Right,” Sella says, pasting her smile back into place. “I know you are. And I know the adjustment period might take some time.”

She looks down at the comms tablet she carries, and a brief frown creases her features before she turns her attention back to us.

“How about this? Why don’t you two take the night to yourselves in the bungalow? It’s going to be a wash-out later anyway with this storm rolling in, and maybe a little time alone together would be helpful.”

A little time alone together would likely lead to bloodshed, but I just nod. “Sure. We can do that.”

Roslyn nods, too, eyes drifting up to where the sky is darkening with the approaching storm.

The air is thick with it, heavy and humid, and as Sella takes off for wherever she’s needed next. It leaves the two of us alone, with our own personal storm just as liable to break at any moment.

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