Page 11 of Daring the Drakarn Warrior Lord
"We have no idea if it's even close to December back home," Lexa pointed out, not for the first time. She'd been making this argument since Eden had proposed the celebration three weeks ago. "We could be celebrating in March for all we know."
"Does it matter?" Selene looked up from her chopping. "We're here. We're alive. And we need to live by this new calendar."
Something in her tone made the room go quiet. When Selene spoke, people listened. She had that quality, calm authority wrapped in gentleness, that made even her smallest observations feel profound.
The moment passed. Conversation resumed, overlapping and chaotic. I watched Kaiya finally extract herself from the silk, face flushed with embarrassment. Kinsley caught my eye and smiled, that warm, steady expression that said she had everything under control. Reika's fingers twisted in her lap, but she hadn't fled yet. She was getting braver by the day, and itdidn't hurt that she had a freaking giant of a mate now to protect her when she needed it.
I moved to help Vega with the decorations. She handed me a length of wire, and we worked in easy silence.
Slowly, the quarters had transformed from cave to something almost festive, if you squinted and ignored the volcanic rock walls. The heat crystals cast everything in warm light. The makeshift ornaments reflected that glow. Eden's bush-tree stood in defiant celebration, needles and all.
"Okay," Eden announced, clapping her hands. "Candle time."
Rachel had won the argument about placement. The candles sat on a flat stone ledge away from anything flammable, arranged in a slightly wonky circle. If this was a metaphor, I wasn't really sure what for.
Earth was gone. Not destroyed, just unreachable. Somewhere across the impossible distance of space, life continued without us. People celebrated holidays we'd never see again. Seasons changed in patterns we'd never feel. Everything we'd known had become memory.
Eden lit the first candle.
"I miss my mom," she said quietly.
She passed the flame to Rachel, who lit the second candle with steady hands.
"My bubbe would tell me to buck up and make the most of this." Someone snorted, but I didn't catch who.
The flame moved around the circle. Each woman lit a candle. Each woman named a loved one.
When the light reached Kira, she stared at it for a long moment. Her jaw worked. Her fingers trembled. But she lit her candle and spoke in a voice that cracked halfway through.
"For my sister. Wherever she is. I'm coming."
The flame came to me last. I looked at the eleven lit candles, at the faces of my people illuminated in their glow, and felt the weight of every choice that had brought us here.
"For the ones we couldn't save," I said. "And the ones we still can."
I lit the final candle.
We stood in silence, twelve flames burning against the dark. The makeshift decorations swayed in air currents. Somewhere in the distance, the sounds of Scalvaris continued, alien and familiar all at once.
Then Orla cleared her throat.
"Okay, enough sadness. Let's eat before this food gets cold."
"Thank freaking god," Lexa muttered.
We ate sitting on cushions on the floor, plates balanced on laps, passing dishes back and forth. The conversation flowed easier now, loosened by food and the release of ceremony.
"So," Eden said around a mouthful of not-potato, "how are the mates?"
Hawk threw a piece of bread at her. "Subtle."
"I'm not here for subtle. I'm here for gossip." Eden grinned, unrepentant. "Come on. You're all mated to massive dragon warriors. There have to be stories."
"There are stories," Vega said dryly. "Most of them involve excessive protectiveness and an inability to understand the concept of personal space."
"Zarvash follows you around like a very large, scaly shadow," Selene observed.
"He does not."
