“I found something.” The words came out before she could stop them. “But not what you were looking for.”
Her father’s fingers paused on the keys. “What do you mean?”
She’d almost forgotten about the flute in the chaos of the rescue, but now it seemed to pulse with warmth against her ribs, demanding attention. She didn’t want to give it up. Didn’t want to see it logged and catalogued and shipped off to whatever collector Merrick decided would pay the most.
“Nothing valuable.” She did her best to sound casual. “Just debris. Old colony junk.”
“I see.” Her father’s disappointment was palpable, settling over the room like fog. “Well. Perhaps tomorrow you can try the secondary coordinates. The seismic readings suggest?—”
“I saved a child tonight.”
The words cut through his lecture like a knife. He blinked at her, confused, as if she’d suddenly started speaking a foreign language.
“What?”
“In the storm. A little girl fell into the water. I heard her screaming and I—” She stopped. Her father was staring at her with an expression she couldn’t read, not concern but something more calculating. “I pulled her out and brought her to shore.”
“A human child?”
“No. Vultor. Or half-Vultor, I think. Her father was?—”
“Vultor?” Her father’s voice sharpened. “You were in Vultor territory?”
“I’m not sure. I was further north than?—”
“Ariella.” He strode over and gripped her arms with hands that trembled slightly. Not from worry, she realized, but something else. “Did they see you? Your modifications? Did they?—”
“They saw me save their child from drowning.” She pulled free of his grip, her bioluminescence flaring indigo with frustration. “The father wasn’t exactly grateful, but he didn’t try to kill me either.”
“You shouldn’t have been there. If Merrick hears that you were interacting with—” He turned away, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “This could complicate things. Merrick has been working to establish trade relationships with the Vultor, and if they think we’re spying…”
“I wasn’tspying.I wasswimming.And then I wassaving a life.”
“Yes, well.” He was already back at his keyboard, typing frantically. “Heroics don’t pay debts.”
She flinched, her chest aching. Not from surprise—she was long past surprise at her father’s priorities—but the weary, familiar disappointment never quite stopped hurting.
“I’m going to change,” she said quietly. “I need to get dry.”
He didn’t respond. He was already lost in his data, muttering to himself about territorial boundaries and political implications and all the ways her existence continued to create problems he had to solve.
Her private quarters were more closet than bedroom—a narrow space barely large enough for a bunk, a storage locker, and a small mirror that showed her reflection in unforgiving detail. She sealed the door behind her and leaned against it, letting out a long sigh.
She crossed to the bunk and sat down, then gave a nervous glance around before carefully pulling the flute out of her suit. She felt like a child hiding stolen sweets.
This is ridiculous. It’s just a piece of debris. An artifact. It probably has no value at all.
But she’d lied to her father about it. She’d hidden it. And now, as she unwrapped the waterproof cloth and pulled the instrument into the light, she understood why. The flute gleamed softly in her hands, carved into a shape that fit her palm like it had been made for her.
This is mine.
The thought was fierce and unexpected and absolutely certain. Whatever this thing was, whoever had made it, it belonged to her now. Not to her father. Not to Merrick. Not to anyone who would see it as a commodity to be sold or a curiosity to be studied.
Mine.
She blew the faintest breath across it and the air shivered with a note so pure it made her teeth ache. Her bioluminescence flared bright violet in response, pulsing in time with the fading resonance. Suddenly overwhelmed, she wrapped the instrument in cloth and tucked it into the bottom of her locker, beneath spare dive suits and waterproof gear, hidden and safe.
For now.
