Page 40 of She Who Devours the Stars
“Big talk from a lady with no gun.” I tilted my head toward the viewport, where Vireleth drifted closer, now backlit by the first of Pelago’s suns breaking the horizon. “She likes me, you know.”
Dyris stared straight into my eyes. I saw mine, glowing, reflected in the mesmerizing liquid silver. “I noticed.”
“I bet she likes me more than you do.”
For a beat, nothing. Then, very softly, with a steel that made my pulse spike: “That was never in question.”
I laughed. “You’re not supposed to let the prisoner win the banter.”
“You’re not a prisoner.”
“Sure feels like it.”
She drew herself up, jaw working. “You have more freedom of movement than anyone else in the Glimmer Zone. The only reason you’re still alive is that the Accord believes negotiation is possible.”
I licked my lips. “Define ‘negotiation.’”
She pushed the data-slate across the table. The screen displayed a contract, a real, legally binding, probably ten million lines of code under the surface, but all I could see was the opening line: Accord Mutual Non-Destruction. Underneath, my name. Underneath that, Lioren Trivane, in ghosted text, as if the system couldn’t let go.
“You want me to sign away the right to exist,” I said. “Classic Accord.”
Her eyes didn’t flicker. “We want you to keep existing. Just… not like this.”
I snorted. “You’re not that broken.”
Her mouth almost twitched. “You don’t know me.”
I looked her up and down, slow and obviously. “I know you spent three hours staring at the security feeds last night, and that you watched the Vireleth transmission more times than you’ll admit.”
That got a reaction. She blushed, just a hint, but I filed it away for later.
“Why did you come alone?” I asked, dropping the act. “You could have brought an army.”
Dyris straightened. “Because this isn’t a negotiation. It’s a test.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Of what?”
She hesitated, then: “Whether you’re still Fern.”
The question hung, loud and raw.
I thought about it. I thought about the blue-white glow in my veins, the way my bones sang every time Vireleth called, the way the world had started to taste less like a planet and more like a promise.
I shrugged. “Right now, I’m whoever I want to be.”
She let out a breath she’d been holding. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
I leaned forward, letting the containment field buzz louder. “I liked it better,” I said, “when you were afraid.”
She froze, just for a second. The mask slipped, and underneath was something brittle and bright. She stood to leave, but her fingertips lingered on the table, right where my hand had been.
She looked back at me, eyes unreadable. “Next time, you won’t have the upper hand.”
I grinned. “Maybe I’ll let you try it.”
She left, not looking back.
I watched her go. The room felt emptier, but not in a bad way.
