Page 62 of Shadows of Stardust

She takes a deep breath, then huffs it out on an exhale that only sounds about half as irritated as she usually is with me.

Progress.

We’re making progress.

“Okay,” she allows, still not entirely enthusiastic, but willing enough to hear me out. “So, how do we do that?”

Another unexpected emotion crops up at her consternation.

Amusement, maybe, but with a wry, anticipatory edge to it.

Something I might almost call… fun, if I didn’t know better.

Roslyn’s still waiting for an answer, still with that little scowl that really does look rather attractive on her, and despite the absolute wreckage that having to experience so manyfeelingshas made of my mind this morning, a solution presents itself almost immediately.

“I’ve got an idea.”

18

Roslyn

“You’ll never keep your feet with a stance like that.”

Zandrel kicks lightly at the inside of my right ankle, nudging me to plant it wider in the sand.

“Better,” he grunts, casting an appraising eye on my form. “Fates, what do they teach you in that human military of yours?”

I want to be insulted by the question, but I just snort a laugh. “Not a whole hell of a lot.”

Maybe some more specialized units get better training, but I wasn’t in one of them. I got my ass kicked by a couple months of basic training, learned the very barest combat essentials, and then got shipped out to learn to fly on Jurva.

That’s where I really shined.

I love flying. Not just the big freighters we took through hyperspace routes and jumpgates that transported us thousands of light-years in a blink, but the smaller crafts used for interplanetary travel and even the personal hovers we hopped around on between bases or from building to building in some of the larger encampments.

It’s been one more hard thing about leaving service—losing my wings. Not that it’s the most challenging out of everything else I’ve faced, not by a long shot, but damn to I miss flying.

Getting to Savvie was the main point of trying to steal the small transport hover, but I’d be a liar if I said there wasn’t also an electric thrill that went through my blood at the idea of lifting off and feeling that freedom again.

Soon, I have to remind myself.

I’ll feel that freedom again soon.

If I trust Zandrel’s being honest with me. If I trust he really is going to help me find her.

“Again.”

The stern command in his voice pulls me back to the present, and though I grumble a little at how damn dictatorial he’s being, there’s no true malice behind it. I take my stance again and grin in challenge.

“Give me your worst.”

He chuckles, and I don’t want that deep, ominous sound to do anything to me other than remind me exactly who my opponent is. I don’t want it to tighten the bottom of my belly or send a thrill through my blood as he takes a half-step closer and shakes his head.

“You wouldn’t survive my worst, human.”

I huff. He’s probably right, but this is too much fun.

“A little full of yourself, huh? Was arrogance a part of the Aux training curricula?”

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