I watched her shoulders shake. Watched her wrap herarms around herself like she was physically holding herself together. Watched her look back at me one more time with eyes full of love and loss and devastating indecision.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” she said, so quietly I almost didn’t hear it.
“You can.” By sheer force of will, I stayed rooted in place. “You’re the strongest person I know, Cleo. You can do anything.”
Even leave me.Especiallyleave me.
She nodded again, tears flowing freely now. Then she let Zara guide her toward the ship. Each step looked like it cost her everything.
I watched them go. Watched Cleo climb the ramp with Zara and Maya on either side, supporting her. Watched the door begin to close.
At the last moment, just before the door sealed completely, Cleo looked back. Our eyes met across the distance.
I love you, I thought, willing her to hear it.I love you and I’m letting you go because that’s what love means.
The door closed. The craft lifted smoothly into the air, rising toward the massive ships above. Within moments, it had disappeared inside the large ship’s belly.
I stood in the plaza, surrounded by my people, and watched the ships disappear into the afternoon sky.
Taking my heart with them.
“Lord Rezor.” Vikkat’s voice was respectful. “We should discuss the terms of diplomatic relations.”
“Yes.” I forced myself to turn away from the empty sky. “We should.”
But even as I led him and Lord Rykar toward the councilchambers, even as I began the complex negotiations that would change my people’s future forever, part of me remained in that plaza.
Watching Cleo leave.
Wondering if she’d ever come back.
Praying that when she figured out what she wanted, when she made her choice with clear eyes and full knowledge, that choice would somehow, impossibly, include me.
CHAPTER 18
Cleo
The artificial gravity kept my plate firmly on the table, but it couldn’t do anything about the weight pressing down on my chest.
I pushed a piece of synthesized protein around, watching it leave a trail in the sauce. Not hungry. Hadn’t been hungry since we left the planet five days ago. The ship’s galley hummed with the familiar sounds of a vessel in transit—the quiet whoosh of air recyclers, the subtle vibration of engines, the occasional beep from the navigation console in the adjacent room.
Homesounds. Sounds I’d lived with for years.
So why did they feel so wrong?
“You need to eat something.” Maya’s voice was gentle as she slid into the seat across from me. “You’re not eating well since we left.”
“Not hungry.” I set down my fork, giving up the pretense. “The artificial gravity is making everything feel weird.”
“It’s not the gravity.” Zara dropped into the chair beside Maya, her own plate piled high with food. At least someone had an appetite. “You’ve been on ships your whole adult life. You know what artificial gravity feels like.”
“Maybe I forgot.” The excuse sounded weak even to me.
“Or maybe you’re miserable,” Zara said bluntly. She took a bite of something that looked like it was supposed to be vegetables and made a face. “Why is ship food always so bland? I swear, after eating in that valley, this tastes like cardboard.”
“The valley had real food,” I said quietly. “Gardens. Actual growing things. You could taste the difference.”
Maya and Zara exchanged glances.
