Epilogue
The Sineater
I paced restlessly outside the med bay, unwilling to go in and possibly hear bad news. Perhaps this was one of those moments when Frederique could smile at me like a seductress and taunt me with being a coward. She had not, and I almost wished she had. Instead, she’d taken one look at my face, patted my arm, and slipped into the med bay for me. Taking care of me, it was a novel experience to be on the receiving end for a change.
Inside the med bay, behind a plexiglass wall, I could see Jaxin lying beneath a thin white sheet, attached to half a dozen machines. He was hanging in there by a thread; his odds rose and fell day by day. Today appeared to be a good day because Dravion was not in and out of the room with a worried frown on his face every five minutes. He seemed to be breathing steadily on his own, and the sheet didn’t look like it dipped into a terrifying crater right over his chest.
Perhaps it was good fortune that Devan’Car had shown up not just for Val and me, but for the Weaponmaster, too. His favorite laser cannon was a tangled mess of warped metal and broken shards. Still, nobody had removed it from his recovery room; it had been left, pride of place, on a table against the wall—out of the way, but visible to Jaxin should he wake. And he would, because the Son of Ragnar wasn’t just a warrior but also a scientist and a doctor. While working on Val’s “cure,” he’d collaborated with Ysa and Dravion to create seamless prostheses for our downed Rummicaron, too. Good. That was one male who deserved a second chance at life. I hoped he’d make it.
Across the med bay, furthest from where Jaxin rested, was Dravion’s lab. I could see Frederique’s black curls rise over the edge of the frosting that obscured most of the window. The other two were much taller as they flanked her, and it made my stomach twist with anger to see her so near other males—mostly anger at myself for not being strong enough to be in there with her and hear the truth.
I couldn’t see her face and could only see Dravion’s shoulders and the long, silky black hair cascading down his lab coat–covered back. Devan’Car was more visible, but, of course, his expression was closed and unreadable. To know what they were feeling and saying, I either had to wait or go in there. With a deep sigh, I pressed my hand to the door, and then I took a step. Val felt… happy, light, and she did not prickle in the back of my head with unease. That had to be a good sign.
When I entered the room, Frederique beamed at me, so bright, so happy, that everything inside me came to an abrupt stop. Calm washed over me, and with it, the certainty that everything was going to be all right. I curled her under my arm and reached out to pet Val’s slinky form on the medical cot in front of me. Listening to Devan’Car and Dravion as they explained was not hard, with my girls by my side.
“The interaction your symbiont had with the substance from Planet X-3P232 damaged her cells. We halted that decay in its tracks, and, coincidentally, that put her in a state of receptiveness perfect to renew the bond.” There was a more technical explanation that followed, something about reversing the effects of the power surge that had disrupted our integration, and more on the peculiarities of the black substance the waterworld creature had used to infect Val.
I listened, and I would certainly ask Dravion to explain it to me again, but for now, the only thing that truly mattered was that they believed this would work. Val was receptive, eager to try, and back to her normal, shimmering silver—the kind of silver that all symbionts were before they bonded to their partner. There was no trace of the worrisome infection Davidson had left on her. That alone would have been enough, but what happened next was… better.
Only someone deeply initiated in the ways of the Sons of Ragnar, like Devan’Car, would know how to start the bonding ritual. It hadn’t been him presiding over my ritual with Val centuries ago, but he was practiced as he spoke and went through the motions. And when I stepped forward to embrace my symbiont, it was just like that first time. My chest tight with anticipation, my body thrumming with hope and purpose, belief settling deep in my bones that this was my future, my fate, and that I would come out stronger on the other side.
There would have been that niggle of doubt, but all I had to do was meet Frederique’s eyes, and it was gone. Stronger, regardless of what happened, better. Because I loved my ladies, and I would do anything for them. Anything. No matter what happened.
Then Val turned black, her sheen darkening—turning a deep, midnight gloss—until it was like staring into a starless stretch of space: vast and endless. She flowed and settled over me, coating my skin, my armor, and sinking deep into my bones—warmth, acceptance, and the radiating glow of all those tender feelings we had never been able to allow before. Vaguely, I heard a door shut behind me, but the unfurling bond between my symbiont andme took up all of my mind. This was her, all of her, not just the parts filtered through a broken, warped tether. It was beautiful.
***
Frederique
As Dravion and the Son of Ragnar slipped from the med bay to give Val and Sin privacy as they bonded, I stood rooted to the spot. He had instinctively reached out and clasped my hand, holding me with him, but it felt a little like I was intruding on something very private. My big—often so grumpy—Sineater had sunk to his knees, and tears were rolling down his stern, handsome face.
For seven hundred years and longer, he’d been hungering to complete this connection. Now he had it, and I couldn’t be happier. Finally whole, the two of them, finally complete. I would have felt shut out if not for that fierce grip on my hand that told me he wanted me here, to see this, to be part of this profound moment. So honored, I stayed, and I watched, and I vowed to always remind him how beautiful this was.
There was a celebration of sorts in the mess hall later that day, and we were late because Sin had other plans to celebrate first. He acted like he didn’t care for the company of theVarakartoom’s crew as they crowed and awed over Val’s new appearance, but he couldn’t hide the truth: he was all aglow, filled with a lightness that didn’t go with the glower he wore. Hope did that, and love.
Devan’Car slipped away quietly, clearly not the type to bask in glory. He did not say a word to Sin as he left, but he touched myhand on the way out the door. “I was told about your mission by Dravion,” he murmured, “and I want to assure you that the Sons of Ragnar have woken.” That was it—a cryptic message—and he was gone, followed by the hulking shape of his polar bear-shaped symbiont. It was enough to let me shed the last of my guilt and sense of responsibility. He was saying that therewasa rebellion going on, and that men like Sin and he were part of it.
“I love your smile,” Sin whispered in my ear when I joined him. There was music playing—loud, rowdy, and alien—but it livened up the atmosphere. Aramon was dancing wildly with his very reserved but radiantly smiling mate in the middle of the room. No one else was, but that didn’t seem to matter. A huge, blue-furred, scar-covered alien with an eerily big grin was passing out bottles of Rummicaron ale and glasses of ruby-red Aderian wine. “It’s a custom on the ship,” Sin explained. “Bad ale, good wine; to celebrate.”
They were celebrating Sin and Val’s successful bonding, and they were celebrating Dravion’s proclamation that Jaxin would make it, even if his beloved cannon, Bex, would not. “I like it,” I said, carefully sipping the wine he’d handed me. “But I’m willing to bet this is very potent. Am I right?” When he nodded, I downed the whole glass with one big sip, then pulled him to the middle of the room, where Aramon had spun Evie into a dip. “Dance?”
Sin’s eyes glowed silver, his armor shone black with Val’s luster, and his smile was downright devilish. I did not think he’d take me up on it—not my Sin, with a reputation to uphold. Then he pulled me close and spun us. Whoops and laughs went up around the room, but he ignored them, eyes still glowing as they locked onto my face. A twirl, a dip, and then he kissed me. “Ilove you, Frederique.” The vow was accompanied by Val, in her Gracka shape, tossing back her head and howling—the mess hall bursting into happy sound.
THE END
