Page 86 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol. 1
She flinches.
Then, cautiously, she asks, “Can we talk?”
“Of course,” I say, keeping my voice low. “As long as we speak softer than running water.” There’s no shortage of water on Vagantu—we’ve got time. Let’s use it well.
“You said you’d explain.”
‘’What do you want to know?’’
“What does Faksaya mean?” she asks, clearly surprised by her own question—and honestly, so am I.
“It’s a word from Asgarne,” I tell her. “It literally means ‘Breath of Life.’ It’s what we call our Dedicated Soul. You might say ‘soul sister’ in Human terms.”
“What do you mean?’’
‘’Ileana, my people believe in soulmates. We recognize them the moment we see them. I knew it the second I saw you. You’re my soulmate. I’d never hurt you. Never. I swear it.’’
Her gray eyes widen, searching my face for something—truth, maybe. Reassurance.
“But that’s impossible,” she says, her voice rising. “You met me on BN-35. If that were true, you wouldn’t have left me with Henri!”
She’s accusing me—and I can’t blame her.
“My biggest mistake,” I confess, the words scraping out of me. “You were with the base administrator—future governor of Jaga-18. Your sister needed help, and I had nothing to offer. He could give you everything. Even protection. For both of you.”
I pause, the weight of it all pressing down on my chest.
“Leaving you there and walking away… that was the hardest decision I’ve ever made. I didn’t know what kind of man he really was. If I had known…”
She collapses into my arms, sobbing.
“He was awful,” she says through her tears. “Cruel. Manipulative. Calculating.”
When the tears slow, she looks up at me, her eyes searching mine.
“Are you sure?” she asks. “I’m not Asgarnian. I’m human. I don’t feel this bond you keep talking about.”
“You can talk about it with Wingo as soon as he helps us get out of here.”
“Wingo? Is he here?” she blurts out, a little too loud.
“Shhh, My Faksaya,” I whisper. “Keep it down. Let me soap you up while we talk—it’ll look more natural.”
“To answer your question, Wingo’s in SIL, orbiting Vagantu. He’s just waiting for a signal to come pick us up.”
She frowns. “But we’re still prisoners. Even if the cage looks different. So what’s the plan?”
I smile faintly. “What if I told you the plan involves a fair amount of improvisation?”
She slumps a little, her gaze dropping, disappointment flickering across her face.
I run my hands gently over her wet skin, trying to ease the tension from her body—trying to wash away the weight of the men’s stares, the way they looked at her like she was something to claim.
“Pherebos?” she says, her voice tight with emotion.
“Yes, my love?”
“We need to warn the Confederation. They have to protect Asgarne. Noviosk will send his men to storm it—you know that, right?”
