Page 53 of Hunted By the Wraiths
“Figured you could use this,” she said, pressing the mug into my hands.
It was perfect. Exactly the right temperature, exactly the right strength. I didn’t even like tea. This was exactly what I needed.
“Thank you,” I said. “For the for the tea. For the rescue. But how did you know? Vashil said she sent a message from my comms. Told you to stand down, that we were going dark.”
Jessa smiled, and it wasn't friendly. It was the satisfied smile of a sniper who'd hit a long-distance shot. “Oh, she did. Sent it from your comms and everything, clear as day. Problem for her is, she sent it while she wasalsocoordinating a Consortium capture team on a separate channel.”
She tapped her temple. “Deyric monitorsallConsortium frequencies in any system we enter. He saw Vashil’s encrypted orders to her 'capture team' spike at the exact same nanosecond as your 'stand down' message. He knew it was a trap before Serak even finished reading it.”
“So you came early,” I said, the relief making my voice rough.
“We came fast,” Jessa corrected, squeezing my shoulder. “Family doesn’t thank family for doing their job. Now, drink your tea. We’ll be jumping to the backup coordinates in twenty minutes. You should strap in.”
“I’m staying here.”
She looked at Thoryn, then at me. Smiled. “Of course you are. I’ll have Zevik prioritize the inertial dampeners in here.”
She left too.
I sat there, drinking tea I didn’t like, watching Thoryn breathe. The monitors showed steady improvement. His scales were starting to shift again, damaged ones trying to match the healthy emerald of the others.
We’d survived. Barely, bloodily, but we’d survived.
Vashil was dead. The immediate threat was over. We had the data that would expose the Consortium’s crimes.
So why didn’t I feel victorious?
Maybe because victory wasn’t the point anymore. Survival was. And we’d managed that, at least for today.
I didn’t know what came next. But for the first time in years, the future didn’t feel like a threat.
The ship jumped. The familiar sensation of reality bending, then snapping back into place. We were away. Safe, for whatever that was worth.
I reached out and took Thoryn’s hand. His fingers were cold but they tightened slightly around mine. Still unconscious, but some part of him knew I was there.
“We made it,” I told him, even though he couldn’t hear me. “We actually made it.”
THORYN
Aweek. Solren had said a week minimum, and he’d meant it. Every time I’d tried to leave the medbay before day seven, he’d threatened me with sedatives. Not an idle threat. The Rokavai medic had a disturbing collection of knockout drugs rated for “large, stubborn reptiles.”
Now, day eight, I was officially released. No more biobeds. No more monitors. No more twice-daily lectures about “respecting the healing process.”
I stood in the corridor outside my quarters, testing my body. The plasma burn on my shoulder had healed to a patch of slightly paler scales. They’d darken eventually. Probably. The vibro-blade wound was just a thin line across my ribs. Just a week ago, both injuries had been killing me by degrees. Now they were just scars. Add them to the collection.
The important thing: no pain.
I rolled my shoulders. Flexed my claws. Took a deep breath without anything tearing. Pain scale: zero. First time in eight years I could honestly say that.
The bond hummed between Maris and me, clean and warm. No static. No agony. No war between conditioning and nature. Just the steady awareness of her somewhere on the ship.The observation deck, if I was reading the bond right. She’d been spending time there, watching stars and avoiding Deyric’s attempts to get her to decrypt things faster.
I found her exactly where I’d expected, standing at the massive curved viewport. She’d claimed a corner of the observation deck as hers—a chair, a small table, a half-empty bottle of something that probably wasn’t water. She was staring at the stars, but I could tell she wasn’t really seeing them. That thousand-yard stare that meant she was running calculations in her head.
“Inventory or tactical assessment?” I asked.
She didn’t turn. “Both. This ship has fourteen escape pods, six emergency suits, and three separate backup life support systems. Also, Zevik owes me forty credits from cards last night.”
“You played cards with Zevik?”
