Lana
“Do you remember when you were still young; the time between when you were a child and then an adult?”
“Yes.” Kyte strokes my hair. His barrier is the only thing keeping all of us from the vacuum of space. The entire rear of our craft disintegrated. Just like Master Daviti. Gone. Never coming back.
Tilda and Uaxin sit huddled with us, and I wonder how long Kyte’s strength can last. But I don’t worry about it. Not really. My pain is gone now, and I’m cradled by the man I love. One of them, anyway.
“The fleet will send ships, surely. They’ve already scrambled them. I’m sure of it.” Tilda peers at the vast sapphire moon. “They’ll get to us before we crash. Right?”
Uaxin shrugs.
I’d mention that she should worry more about Kyte’s barrier giving out than crashing on the moon, but that doesn’t seem helpful, or even pressing. What’s pressing are the words I’m trying to give to Kyte.
What was I saying? I want Kyte to know that I see him. All of him. It’s important, though I don’t know why. My thoughts flutter back to Kyte’s memory. “And your mother told you not to visit your father’s private house. The one with the endless doors.” I can see the house, a light gray, almost hidden in the swirling mists of the Ghost Planet.
“Yes.”
“But you went anyway. You went. Because you wanted to see him, to tell him your plans for the airship you wanted to design.”
“I remember.” His head droops a little as he tries to strengthen his green barrier. Tilda and Uaxin scoot closer, Uaxin stroking my forehead as I talk silently with Kyte.
“It wasn’t your fault.” I struggle to say the words. “You weren’t to blame. Do you understand that?”
“Shh.” He meets my eyes. “Don’t talk. You’re drained.”
“What happened wasn’t your fault. I mean it, Kyte. You were surprised.” I want to touch him, but my arms are so heavy. “You wanted to defend your mother’s honor. He didn’t leave because of you.”
He sighs. “It’s common for Calarian nobles to have many partners. I’d seen plenty of others with many males and females, but I’d never seen my mother or father so much as dally. And I thought that picture of them was accurate.”
“There was no way for you to know any different. You were still a child.”
“I was, but certain mistakes stick with you. I suppose I wasn’t ready to face the truth about my father. My mother never loved another, never touched another. She still hasn’t accepted any offers of courtship. I didn’t understand it then, and I’d only just come into my abilities.The shock of it, of the males and females my father kept like pets—it … ruptured me somehow. Broke down the wall to my full power, and I hurt them. It wasn’t their fault, either, but I hurt them all the same.”
“It’s okay.” I squeeze his hand. “You were so young. And you couldn’t square the father who’d doted on you and your mother with the person you found in that house.” A tear slides down my cheek. He wipes it away as his barrier shrinks just a little more. “I loved you then. I loved you when I saw you. That memory doesn’t define who you are, just like the memory of my mother’s fists doesn’t define me.”
“You are my soul.” He gently wipes away another one of my tears, his touch so soft and perfect that I wonder if I somehow fell into a dream in the middle of this hurtling hell. But the sapphire moon looms huge, its blue ever brighter than that of the virudivan engine that’s long gone from our ship.
I just breathe for a while as the memory fades, disappearing like a shadow in the mists of Latrides.
Uaxin scoots even closer, her big eyes luminous. She doesn’t seem scared. If anything, she’s calm, as if she’s been through worse and doesn’t fear death.
Tilda runs a hand through her hair, her gaze drawn to the gaping hole in the rear of the ship. “Surely, the fleet will send ships from Centari,” Tilda says again.
Uaxin rests her forehead on her knees. “Master Daviti.” Her voice is a whisper.
“I know.” I don’t want to think about it, don’t want to relive it in my mind.
“May he be at ease in the star-filled night.” Tilda makes the symbol across her chest.
Uaxin nods.
Gone. Because of the Sentients. He lived through the last war only to die now. More tears well in my eyes.
“He is with his Omega.” Kyte is barely hanging onto the barrier, but he still tries to comfort me.
“Can you use my power? Like a battery? Remember when—”
“No. You’re drained.” He sighs. “I’ll hold it as long as I can.”
