Page 38 of Signed, Sealed, Seduced
11
Signed, Sealed, Seduced
Suki
Thewalkfromthelaunch bay to Henrok’s private chambers feels like the longest journey of my life. Not because of the distance—though this fortress could swallow entire space stations I’ve visited—but because of the weight of what’s happening. What I’ve chosen.
I’m staying.
Where I found the courage to actually say those words out loud, I have no idea. “I don’t want to go.” Four simple words that somehow managed to escape the iron grip of my self-preservation instincts. The same instincts that have kept me moving, kept me from attaching to anyone or anything except my ship for the past five years.
The thought keeps circling in my mind like a ship caught in a gravity well. I’m actually staying. On Zater Reach. With a Zaterran warlord I met days ago because of a “delivery mishap” that turned out to be an elaborate espionage plot.
Mother would have a stroke if she knew. I can practically hear her gravelly voice now: “Vega, you idiot, you don’t shack up with the client! Especially not the terrifying alien warlord client!”
Yet here I am, following Henrok’s broad back through corridors that pulse with crystalline light, each step taking me further from the life I’ve known and deeper into... what, exactly?
“You’re very quiet,” Henrok observes without turning, his deep voice resonating in the empty hallway.
“Just taking inventory of my terrible life choices,” I quip, the sarcasm automatic, a shield against vulnerability.
He stops then, turning to face me with those intense garnet eyes that seem to see straight through my defenses. “Is that what this is? A terrible choice?”
The genuine concern in his voice catches me off guard. For someone whose face rarely betrays emotion, Henrok communicates volumes through the smallest shifts in tone.
“No,” I admit, softer now. “Just an unexpected one.”
Something in his posture relaxes slightly—a tension I hadn’t even realized was there until it eased. “Many significant paths begin unexpectedly,” he says, resuming our walk. “The War of Shattered Moons began with a single miscalculated mining explosion.”
“Wow. Way to make a girl feel special, comparing her to a catastrophic war.” I lengthen my stride to keep pace with him, noticing how he subtly adjusts his own to accommodate me. Another small consideration I’m beginning to catalog.
The corner of his mouth twitches in what I’m learning to recognize as his version of a smile. “The comparison is apt. Both events altered the course of my existence in ways I could not have anticipated.”
“Smooth talker,” I mutter, but I can’t help the warmth that spreads through my chest at his words.
We pass several Zaterran guards who snap to attention with such perfect synchronization it’s almost comical. Their eyes flicker to me with barely concealed curiosity before returning to their disciplined forward stare. I wonder what rumors are already circulating about the human courier who crashed into their warlord’s life and refused to leave.
Finally, we reach a section of the fortress I haven’t seen before. The corridors here are wider, the crystalline veins in the obsidian walls pulsing with a deeper, steadier rhythm. Henrok places his palm against an unmarked section of wall, and a doorway materializes, sliding open to reveal his private chambers.
I step inside and immediately stop, momentarily overwhelmed by the unexpected space. I’d imagined something austere and militaristic—a warrior’s quarters, all function and no comfort. Instead, I find myself in a vast room with soaring ceilings and an entire wall of transparent crystal that opens to the asteroid belt and the nebula beyond. The ion storm haspassed, leaving a canvas of swirling gases illuminated by distant stars.
“This is... not what I expected,” I admit, moving further into the room.
The space is minimal but not stark. Ancient weapons and artifacts adorn the walls, each piece clearly chosen with care rather than displayed as trophies. A massive desk carved from a single piece of obsidian sits near the viewport, its surface covered with holographic projections that fade as we enter. Beyond it, I glimpse what appears to be a sleeping area, the bed—if you can call something that size a mere bed—built into a raised platform.
“What did you expect?” Henrok asks, watching me explore with that intense focus he brings to everything.
I shrug, running my fingers along the edge of a nearby table. “I don’t know. More skulls? Fewer windows? Definitely not this view.”
“The view reminds me of what I protect,” he says simply, moving to stand beside me at the viewport. “And what exists beyond our borders.”
The statement carries weight, like everything he says. I’m beginning to understand that Henrok doesn’t waste words. When he speaks, it matters.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, watching as a piece of the asteroid belt catches the light of a distant sun, its crystalline surface fracturing the light into a thousand colors. “I’ve been to hundreds of systems, but I’ve never seen anything quite like Zater Reach.”
“Few outsiders have,” he replies. “We are... private by nature.”
“And yet here I am,” I gesture to myself, “the random courier who crashed the party.”
