Page 60 of Shadows of Stardust

17

Zandrel

Morning light streams in the windows when I finally hear the tentative crack of Roslyn’s door.

I managed a few hours of sleep sometime after midnight before waking early to continue planning. But for Roslyn’s sake, I lie back down on the couch and pretend to be asleep.

After last night, I’m not sure where we stand. If giving her space will help, I can certainly tolerate a few more minutes on the stiff cushions and give her time to head out to the beach before me.

“You up?”

The soft question comes from somewhere near the kitchen.

I sit up and find her behind the island, both hands braced on the stone counter-top.

Seeing her there—bathed in bright morning sunshine, hair loose and wavy, wearing a flowing dress made of a silky green material that matches her eyes—sends a wave of unfamiliar emotions lurching through the center of my chest.

Guilt, first and foremost, for how I’ve behaved.

Discomfort, because I’ve never been good at this, at… apologizing, making amends, saying the right thing.

Apprehension, over what comes next, how I can help her, where we go from here.

I stand, circling around the back of the couch before leaning against it and leaving plenty of space between us.

I still don’t confidently know how to read her strange, soft-featured human face. I don’t know how to take the temperature of the mood in the room or whether the turbulence I’m feeling is anything but my own roil of emotion, so I remain silent.

“So,” Roslyn says, still thinking, biding her time. “About last night…”

“I meant what I said,” I hurriedly assure her. “About finding your sister.”

She pauses, and this time I think Icanpick up on the mistrust and skepticism in her expression. The pinch between her brows, the tightening and down-turning of her lips, the shift in her posture as she crosses her arms over her chest.

“Yeah? And where do we… start with that? How… how does this work?”

Ah. This is better. This I can handle. This is much easier than processing my own emotions or trying to understand hers.

“Can I show you something?”

She nods, and I reach for my comms tablet where I left it on the end table near the sofa. Walking across the room, I slow my step as I reach the island, remembering the way she retreated when I approached her the other night.

“Here,” I say, swiping through a couple of screens until I reach the information about the crew’s small fleet of hovers, then handing it to her. “This is the craft you were attempting to commandeer last night. I can break into its onboard system and keep it from flagging for unauthorized use when we take it into Eritin to search.”

Roslyn swallows hard. “Did it… did I… when I tried to take it last night, did it set off an alarm?”

“I shut it down before anyone noticed.”

Her eyes stay trained on the screen, but twin patches of color appear on her cheeks.

I want to tell her she couldn’t have known. I want to tell her it was a good attempt, all things considered, and that she should be proud of how quickly she was able to get the hover started and ready to leave the production area.

But again, I hold my tongue.

“And from there, we’ll be able to reach the settlement?”

“We will,” I tell her, absolutely certain. “Once we identify the right moment to go, it should only take us an hour to get there.”

She meets my gaze. “The right moment? What are we waiting for?”

---